Confidence Game
by mooncrossed
Summary: What happens when a teenager with a phobia concerning driving gets tied up in one of Swindle's crazy money making schemes? Yeah, I'm scared, too.
1. Chapter 1

Confidence Game

Ch. 1: Low Bid

By: MoonCrossed

This is purely a fan-made entertainment. I don't own Transformers, Apple computers, Mario Andretti, or Mitsubishi, and am not making money off of them. I do, however, own Cassidy and her wacky family, who are loosely based off of my family and friends. Please ask permission before borrowing them.

Dedicated to: my Dad, who got me out of every writers block I ran into; my family, who screamed at me to go digital before they all went crazy; and God, without whom I wouldn't have any talent at all.

Warnings: Occasional violence, but no worse than you'd find in your average Saturday morning cartoon.

Genre: Comedy/ Adventure

Rating: T

Pairings: Nope, not going there.

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The tow truck beeped rhythmically as it slowly raised the SUV, tilting it on its rear tires. It's flat rear tires. Swindle silently groaned at the pain. _Ooh, ouch! They feel like spikes in my peds. Slagging Earth technology! _But of coarse, no one could hear him thanks to a certain timepiece.

His audios tuned in abruptly when the organic police captain said the words that enraged and chilled his spark at the same time. "…Stripped for parts." The man finished it off with a derisive laugh. The Autobots seemed to look a little uncomfortable, but did nothing as the ponderous machine he was hooked to trundled away. Swindle's reaction was a lot more colorful, if silent. _WHAT!?!?_ He internally screamed. _What did I ever do to deserve that? _Sure, he'd stolen and done a sale or two to the highest bidder, but nothing that would deserve the smelting racks. _I haven't even killed any of the organics_, he fumed. _And any Decepticon captured alive in battle was given the right to a fair trial. Did they think he was dead?_ Judging from the looks that the other mechs had given one another, he had a fair clue.

A chain linked impound lot came into view, full to bursting with cars of every make and model.Slowly the gate slid open and he tensed, before deliberately relaxing. He could barely move. What little power he had left needed to be used carefully. The tow truck jostled briefly and a man came into view, yawning. He started to work on the chains before a voice called from the inside of the building nearby. "Hey, Roy! What are you doing out here so late? I thought you went off shift an hour ago!"

The man working on him groaned before he tossed over his shoulder, "I did, Vinny. The chief called me out anyway." Something in the latch slipped and the human cursed hopping around and waving his injured hand. "Ow!" Swindle internally smirked. They certainly had an interesting way of behaving. The other man ran out looking worried. "Roy, what happened?" He set his coffee cup on the flat bed. "Yeesh, I think you need to get that looked at. It's bleeding."

"Yeah, no kidding," the injured driver deadpanned with hissing breath. He'd stopped waving his hand around like a demented bird, and was now clutching his wrist. It was obvious he wanted to say a lot worse to the other organic, but was holding back. Likely, so he'd be a more ready source of help. Together, they staggered off to the police building in the distance. Seizing his chance, Swindle scanned frantically for another alt-mode. Minutes ticked by and he grumbled in silent irritation. That blasted watch had slowed down his gears to a snail's crawl. Belatedly, his sensors picked up an organic approaching.

_C'mon, c'mon_, he silently urged. Finally, in the back corner of the lot, he found a good candidate. It was old, and covered in enough dust and mud that he couldn't even recognize the paint job, but it would do. He just went with an estimation of the color, and made up the letters and numbers for the license.

Using up his last energy reserves, he cast out a copy program. His audios picked up the steady slap of shoes on tarmac and he concentrated harder. _Come on, speed up_, he internally chanted. Each square foot of the distant car emerged on his sight map with all the speed of an Apple computer from the seventies. At last, the final tail end was recorded and Swindle could have cheered his Decepticon head off. With a slow shimmer, the tall beige sub-utility vehicle shifted until, in its place was a dull green Mitsubishi Gallant with out of state plates. At that exact moment a female officer trudged around the corner, eyed the extra workload in the form of one car partially removed from immobilization, and set to work undoing the restraints. Swindle was too tired to care. With a relieved sigh, he fell into recharge, thankful he'd avoided the pit one more time.

Five days later…at the Detroit Police Department car auction.

"Come on, Cassidy. It's not like the cars are going to rear up and bite you," a young man, possibly in his early twenties, called. He had the kind of chiseled good looks that made girls swoon, and unfortunately, he knew it. He brushed wavy red hair off his forehead and offered a suspicious cop a toothpaste commercial smile. After a dark look, the officer moved on. Then Kit marched back the way he'd come, and grabbed a slightly shorter girl who'd been balking warily at the entrance.

Cassidy flicked a glare at her older brother, Kit, before staring glumly out over the sea of automotive hulks. The siblings looked nothing alike. Where Kit was the physique and features of Anthony the Great, Cassidy was the bastardized Irish cousin. A foot shorter, with deeply tanned skin and an upturned nose, people often thought they weren't related. "I still don't see why we have to get one of these speeding death traps. I do fine without one already," the brunet teen tried.

"Oh, no you don't," her brother warned. "I'm not leaving for Japan until I'm sure you're mobile. You've got a license, now. Something like that is meant to be used."

Cassidy grimaced at this reminder. Personally, she thought the license had been given to her out of pity rather than any kind of skill. And yeah, the actual passing of the test had been a victory cheer in and of itself… until she'd realized she had to drive now. Every day since then had been a study in avoidance. If she walked to school, she didn't need a car. If she rode her bike to work, a car was unnecessary. It worked until her brother had shanghaied her. She glanced up at Kit and noticed the adoring shine in his green eyes. Cassidy could guess at the reason. "You're only here to lust over all the cars," she commented casually. "My car-less state is just a good excuse to shop."

Kit, a goofy smile plastered across his aristocratic, features merely nodded. It was only his sister's snickering that alerted him to what she'd said. He blinked and backtracked in the conversation before glancing sharply down at her. She merely offered an impish grin. He rolled his eyes and focused back on the auction. Another hapless vehicle had made it to the auction block. It was a shimmering red convertible, complete with duel side airbags, yada, yada, yada. Cassidy tuned out of the auctioneer's spiel, uninterested. She glanced at her older brother and noted the happy car expression on his face again. Now was her chance. If she snuck away now, and made it to the bus stop on the corner, she could be halfway to Denver before he even realized she was gone. A healthy fear of driving had made her adept at memorizing the bus schedules all across the southwest. A strong cold hand grasping her wrist abruptly blew that out of the water. She glared at the owner of those icicle fingers, who was still gazing longingly at the cars only this time with the addition of a slight smirk. Sometimes it sucked having a brother that knew her so well. This was one of those times.

"SOLD! For five hundred dollars," the auctioneer declared, clacking his gavel right next to the microphone. Cassidy jumped at the abrupt noise and stared incredulously at the platform. A little old lady with blue hair and a Chihuahua in a bag hobbled up to claim her red convertible. _They were selling for that cheap, _she wondered. The dog yapped and tried to bite the auctioneer's fingers as he handed over the keys. The old biddy smiled, hobbled carefully into the car, then let out a whoop and drove off with a squeal of tires.

Cassidy groaned again. At prices this low, there was no way her brother would balk at a purchase. There went another safeguard to her no car lifestyle. Kit seemed to anticipate this, too. "Hey, Cass! Quit moaning like you're heading to your own execution," he declared, glaring at her.

"It is my own execution. Do you realize how many people die on the road in those things," the teen protested gesturing at the stage. Since no one was bidding on the latest car, and who could blame them, the auctioneer took their gesture down for fifty dollars. The dull green Mitsubishi Gallant gleamed innocently in the sun. They had had some trouble starting it, but once the engine turned over, it ran like a dream. Now it sat, a literal slumbering giant.

"You're a wonderful driver. More skilled than Mario Andretti," Kit claimed, half jokingly gesturing. The auctioneer noted his bid for one hundred dollars.

"It's everybody else's skills I'm worried about," she complained, flinging her arms out demonstratively. "The whole world drives like lunatics. You could be the best driver in the world and still get t-boned by a guy driving a hundred and fifty, with enough alcohol in his system to supply a brewery." The auctioneer noted this bid as well. By now, everyone was looking at them.

"Oh, come on. Why is it you trust another person's driving over your own, then? Those drunks are aiming for the big bull's eye on the side of the car just as much," Kit declared sarcastically right back.

"The other person won't have a panic attack at the first sound of sirens, either," Cassidy stated, glaring daggers at her older brother. This raised a number of officer's eyebrows.

"SOLD! To the sweet married couple in the middle row," the auctioneer declared jovially. It took the open staring of every eye in the crowd to bring Kit and Cassidy out of their glaring contest.

"What," Kit croaked inelegantly. If Cassidy hadn't been so alarmed, she would have laughed. The look of confusion on her brother's face was hilarious. In a dazed state he looked at the car on the stage and grimaced at the nasty color, before an idea hit him. It was a car, and it looked safe enough for Cassidy. With renewed energy, he bounded to the stage, dragging a reluctant little sister with him.

"That will be three hundred and fifty bucks," he informed them. "Now take your domestic fight back home before we arrest you."

"But, we aren't married," Kit protested, even as he wrote the check out.

"Coulda fooled me," the off duty cop drawled.

"But, she's my sister," the redhead continued to protest.

The cop made a face. "That's disgusting." He slapped the keys into Kit's palm and shoved him toward their new vehicle of choice.

Cassidy was eying it about the same way one would consider an un-caged tiger, interesting, but too dangerous to appreciate up close. Kit climbed into the driver's seat and jerked the door closed with a bone-rattling thud. Knowing his sister's moves, he reached across and dragged her in through the open window on the other side before she could disappear. "You will be paying me back when we get home," he warned in a no-nonsense tone. He started the car and zoomed out of the lot.

Cassidy snorted. "I don't see why I should, since I didn't even want a car to begin with." At a sharp right, she hurriedly donned her seat belt.

Kit was not adverse to blackmail. "Remember the incident involving the Stalinski's mobile home?"

She looked at him sharply.

"I do," he continued, "and the way those soap bubbles poured out of their open door was beautiful. Just three-hundred and fifty dollars insures that they don't find out who I saw climbing out of the back window," Kit grinned at his grimacing sister.

"It wasn't my fault," she protested. "How was I supposed to know that was too much soap for the washing machine?" She rolled her eyes. "Ok, fine. I'll pay for the car."

Kit let out an abrupt snicker. "That reminds me," he pulled out of traffic and slammed on the brakes. "You should be driving. It's your car," he invited magnanimously.

Cassidy stared warily back. "Technically, not," she wheedled. "You paid the money, so it's your car until we reach the house."

"And you agreed to pay me back, so it _is_ your car. You're driving. So get behind the wheel or I'm tying yah to it."

Cassidy stiffened when she felt her belt tighten slightly on it's own, but then shrugged it off. She had more important things to worry about, like avoiding the driver's side at all costs.

"How difficult yah are," Kit continued, "depends on how difficult I am."

She opened her mouth to protest.

"Only a little protest, and it's the steering wheel. A little more, and you'll get roped to the spare tire. If you're really annoying you'll wind up closely acquainted with the left rear tire," he finished. A solid glare commenced, brother versus sister. The gauntlet had been thrown. "Steering wheel," Kit declared warningly. Neither blinked. The girl didn't give in. "Spare tire in the trunk," the redhead continued.

"I could always pop the trunk and walk home with the spare tire," Cassidy at last replied in a bored tone. "It would look a little weird, but then again, people should be used to it by now in this family."

Kit continued right over her rebuttal. "Left front tire," he suggested with matching casualness.

"Under such circumstances, my body would get dragged under and you'd go to prison for slaughtering a sibling," Cassidy declared archly. "Top that, jailbird." The only sign of her discomfort at the mere mention of the idea was a slight paling of her dusky skin.

Not blinking, Kit replied, "Left rear wheel."

Cassidy raised one cool eyebrow, the only expression she would allow herself in these con-artist games.

"A lovely case of road rash," Kit described, smiling like a striking snake.

"Won't Mom love yah then," Cassidy drawled condescendingly. "I'm sure she'll enjoy repaying the favor, after she gouges you for hospital bills, of course." Her tone of voice deliberately changed from cold-hearted haggler to valley girl ignorance. "Like, how much does a skin graft cost again?"

"Who says it's the streets? There are lots of farm fields just outside of the city." He smirked, as she faltered. "I'll even go easy on you and never go faster than twenty miles an hour." His smile widened as Cassidy slumped in her seat, then undid her seat belt with all the speed of a hibernating sloth. Her brother watched her avidly. Finally, she climbed out of the passenger seat and stood up. In the blink of an eye, Kit hopped over the console and took her old spot. She jumped and gave her brother the evil eye. He smiled smugly back, fastening his seatbelt. Then, he gestured graciously toward the car's drivers seat. Muttering some not nice things, she marched around the car's nose and climbed in the open door. Her heart hammering, a cold sweat making her palms damp, she put it in gear and drove.

Swindle blinked his dashboard lights in confusion. This was a weird experience. He'd come on line to find himself parked by the side of a busy intersection, with two strange organics inside him. Naturally, he'd tried to do what any other self-respecting mech would do, which is: throw them out and take off. It was even worse when he discovered he couldn't move. In a panic, he'd shifted and strained, but the most he could accomplish was a twitchy seat belt. He couldn't even talk!

In a panic, he'd run a diagnostic, then slumped at the results. His systems were running slower than ever before. That was just enough to jog his memory. _Oh, yeah, the time piece_, he remembered. He had fired it off, intent on shutting down those Autobots who were trying to stop him from making a sale. He mentally grimaced. _But then that little yellow one had jumped in the way of the beam with his forcefield on, the blast got reflected back, so instead…_ His diagnostic report came back with the news he expected. Energy levels? High. Damage to systems? Negligible. Processing speed? _Slower than_ _my earliest ancestors_, he sarcastically paraphrased.

His attention was grabbed when the man in his driver's seat had suggested tying the girl in his passenger seat to his wheel. _Were they serious?_ He watched, incredulous, as the two had begun a blackmail game with enough coldhearted enthusiasm to be declared Decepticons themselves. A little further into the game of dare and he came to a startling realization, they were brother and sister. _And I thought my family was bad,_ Swindle reflected with rueful amusement. These fleshies could give them pointers.

He tried clearing his vocals out of habit when he heard a good opening, then mentally sighed when only silence emerged. He hated being so helpless. To distract himself from his problems, he instead decided to look up the femme's question about skin grafts, whatever they were. _Hmm… Oh, that's disgusting_, he mentally exclaimed as pictures and text danced before his processor. Then price comparisons came up and he choked on his energon. The price, when translated into Cybertronian currency, was astronomical. With a threat like that, the girl had easily won, but Kit still had one hole card.

He listened in growing admiration as the redhead skillfully twisted the threat into something useful. It was true that loose dirt, while unpleasant, wouldn't require hospital visits. The girl knew it, too, because she admitted defeat seconds later. _Although, she_ _might need a little prodding_, Swindle reflected as he watched the reluctant teenager exit his passenger side at a snails pace. After watching for another two minutes, Swindle felt like throwing a fit. This kid moved slower than his systems, and that was saying something. He didn't honestly care about what they did; he just didn't really have a choice in participation. Finally she was out, and faster than a turbo flea, the male took her place. _Smart man_, Swindle reflected. _Block any and every exit for the spoiled brat_.

He watched the girl march around his hood in a fit of anger, mumbling insults, which he could easily hear. He rolled his optics mentally when she wished an extremely unpleasant death on her brother involving the Pacific Ocean and a seagull. He doubted that was even physically possible, once he'd researched the oceangoing bird out of habit. He laughed out loud, if silently, when she referred to him as, "The Torture Car." _Ha!_ _You have no idea, kid_, he mentally mocked. At last, she slid into his driver's seat and stared at his steering wheel in growing dread. _What is her big problem,_ he groused to himself, impatient to get moving. _It's just driving…OH, YUCK, _he silently yelped as a sweat slick hand grabbed his shift knob. An equally wet hand pulled his turn signal.

_Why is this organic leaking fluids all over me? I thought they only did that when_ _they were overheating!_ He shuddered slightly as her hands slicked over his steering wheel. It was a slightly acidic mixture of salt water, and oil, but it would eat into his systems if it stayed there for any length of time. He aimed a glare out of his front console. Oblivious to his annoyance, she made a hurried turn signal off of the main city streets and cringed when a taxi almost ripped his bumper off as it sped past. He would have done the same thing; she was driving five miles an hour slower than the speed limit. At last, they turned onto a residential street. In seconds, she had him in park, his engine turned off, his seatbelt retracted and his door open. In silence, Swindle stared at the closed front door of the simple two story human abode that the teenager had disappeared into. _She's a good sprinter_, he reflected.

Kit sighed, and slowly undid his seatbelt. He'd only had enough time to get out the words, "Good job, Ca-," before she'd bolted for the safety of her bedroom. He had no idea why she was so neurotic, but he was determined to help her. And the best way to do that was by making her face her fears. Climbing out calmly, he closed the door, and only paused long enough to close and lock Swindle's driver's side, before following her into the house. With that, the Decepticon was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Confidence Game

Chapter 2: Culture Shock

By: Mooncrossed

Thanks to VeekaIzhanez and S91 for the reviews, and sorry for the long wait. Half of my teachers suddenly realized they should start assigning homework just as the other half decided to do mid-terms early. Last, but not least, I don't own transformers, Mitsubishi or the Band-Aid company, mores' the pity. So, sorry, and now, on with the show!

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The door swung open with a dull groan. Kit paused a moment in the dim light to allow his green eyes to adjust. Like any home where the residents did their jobs no earlier than noon, it was dark inside. Thick lacy curtains shadowed the windows. Dark reddish brown carpets covered the floor, partially to hide the stains of a house where two teenagers lived, and partially to add to the sleepy affect. There was only one main difference between this household and others: the high paranoia. Kit slammed the wooden front door closed with a resounding crash. It was the only way to close it without having it creak open again, their father had installed it that way for a reason. Sure enough, his voice drifted sleepily from the parlor. "Huzzat…?"

Kit rolled his eyes. "It's me Pop! Go back to sleep," he called. Ignoring the half-awake reply, he headed to the stairs, instinctively cat footing as he went. Not that it made much difference. Every step he took caused the floor to creak. Sound carried from one room to the next. Everyone knew where everyone else was and could easily discern what was said from anywhere else in the house. Most people thought this was normal for an old home; few realized it was a deliberate precaution to prevent little surprises from sneaking up on them. This sadly meant that a little thing called privacy was an abstract concept. It was weird and annoying, sometimes even embarrassing to him, but he put up with it. He had all his life, not that it mattered. He was moving out soon. Now for the stairs, the easiest part of the journey. He was one of the only ones that knew exactly where to step to reach the top of the stairs, and a certain kid sister's bedroom, without making a sound.

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The bedroom was bright. That was the first description that anyone visiting her room would realize. It wasn't because of the color, either. The main reason for the overwhelming sunshine that no amount of curtains could cover up, was the bay window. It was huge, dominating one whole wall and displaying the street out front in all its suburban wonder. Cassidy had taken one look at it and claimed it for herself. Naturally, since she was the youngest, she got overruled. Her brother had received the prize, the grand Marriott suite of the house, and she'd been saddled with the tiny attic bedroom up above. It had taken three long years of carefully gathered blackmail before Kit relented and switched rooms. Now, the bay window was all hers. However, that wasn't what she was focused on at the moment.

Cassidy grunted and pulled harder. She was halfway under her bed, with her butt sticking up in the air. Dust covered debris from ages past were piled haphazardly all around. She tugged again, and then swore when her hair caught again on a box spring. She'd found a broken puzzle box from her preschool days, a teddy bear missing one eye, and a red scarf she wore to church when she was seven. She twisted and braced one sock clad foot on the nearest bedpost. 'Almost have it… there!' Triumphantly, she held up a deflated basketball she'd lost back in the sixth grade. Most people listened to music when they were stressed out, or they exercised, or did embroidery. Cassidy cleaned.

The brunet shook her curl covered head and sneezed, trying to get rid of a lifetime's worth of dust. 'This is great,' she mused. "At this rate, I could be here for the next year or so. Mom and Pop have been begging me to clean my room for forever.' This tactic worked wonders on her family. If they wanted her to do something she didn't want to do, she tackled a different job that no-one else wanted instead. Oftentimes, they were so grateful for the unexpected help that they forgot all about the original request. Bonus points if the chore she picked was a tiring one. Then people felt guilty about bringing up the old subject. She figured, as long as she had an excuse about being too busy, she wouldn't have to drive ever again.

A soft knock at the door made her jump. Nervously, she considered the barrier, before diving back into the mess with a vengeance. Two decks of playing cards, a squirt gun and a pirate's eye patch flew into the air. Another knock sounded, followed by a sigh. "Cassidy," Kit's muffled voice warned.

"What? Huh? Kit, is that you," the brunet teenager questioned in geriatric tones. "I'm sorry; you're going to have to speak up! The door's kind of thick." She made sure to noisily drop the half crushed puzzle box to the floor. She wished she had a radio, but just like all of its previous predecessors, it had broken. Machines tended to do that with disturbing frequency around her, and she had no idea why. It was just one of those mysterious facts of life that she lived with.

"You mean your head is kind of thick," the unseen redhead retorted. "You know what I'm here for, hand it over."

Cass paused for a moment. She could have sworn she heard him tapping his foot, which was impossible because the carpet was too thick…

"CASSIDY," her brother shouted, interrupting her thoughts.

She dismissed the odd noise she'd heard, and got back to cleaning. "I'm not opening the door Kit," she called back. "I'm still traumatized from my ordeal. I might need to see a shrink."

"Pretend I'm one and fork over the cash," he replied.

"Hah! Like this counts for a couch session," she defiantly taunted. Cassidy squinted at the dust covered denizens of the space under her bed. 'Was that…?' She peered closer, then brightened. 'It was!' With reckless determination, she slid underneath like a commando. More muffled thumps shook the door and rattled the pictures. An orange plastic dinosaur stared forlornly back from under a pile of papers. She'd collected a bunch of toys like that back when she was in the fourth grade, thinking she was going to be an archeologist when she grew up. When she found out it wasn't anywhere near as exciting as the movies, she gave up on it. With steam shovel like efficiency, she pushed the paper pile out, cradling her prize.

I'm still good on that threat I made in the car, Cassidy," he warned, losing his patience. "The Jelinski's are still mad about what you did to their mobile home. They had to throw out a lot of cheap fiberboard furniture in that mess. You don't pay and I'll rat yah out."

Cassidy dropped the plastic triceratops she'd found, to stare at the door with a worried frown. "Can't I pay yah later? Like maybe tomorrow?"

"Now Cass. Three-fifty. Don't make me imitate the mafia on yah," he warned.

She hopped over a barrier of recently unearthed treasures. "I'm always good on my debts, Kit," she answered, feeling genuinely insulted.

Kit sighed. "I know, but yah need to get over this weird phobia of yours. Facing it is the best way."

"Who made up that load of hooey," the teenager scoffed. She took a broad step over a pile of stuffed animals designated for charity, and a woodworking project in the 'to do' pile. At last, reaching her clothes chest, she pulled out the third drawer and rooted around until she found an old envelope. Inside was a wad of cash that could make a lotto winner weep for joy, her life's savings. Carefully, she counted it out.

"I don't know," Kit mumbled shifting his weight. He could always break in. He was fairly adept at picking locks, but then again, this was his sister. The general rule was, anything you did against another family member would be done tenfold right back. He valued his own privacy too much to open up that can of worms. Tired of his position, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. "Come on, Cass. I feel stupid hanging out at the top of the stairs, and I -," he broke off when he saw movement. There, down at the bottom of the door, Ben Franklin peered up at him. He blinked and looked closer. Soon, an entire one-hundred dollar bill was exposed to the open air. A moment later, a second hundred began a slow emergence right after it. "Cassidy," her brother laughed out loud.

"Well it's necessary," she justified herself. "I've done all the driving I want to do today, and this is just a precaution." The two hundred dollar installment uncurled on Kit's side of the door, officially his.

Snickering, he pocketed the bills. "Cass, you're being ridiculous. Do you think the car's lying in wait for you? It's just me!"

Cassidy snorted out a laugh. "I know it's not doing that," she chided. "It's not alive. It's just a car, but that's bad enough. Do you know how many kids in my school have died from car crashes?"

"Two," Kit answered promptly. "And one wasn't even inside the car at the time. The poor bastard was walking across the street." He grinned, hearing his sister's softly whispered curse words. "If you're going to exaggerate a story, pick somebody that doesn't read the papers." The third hundred dollar bill uncurled from the confines of the bottom of the door, and Kit pocketed it. Then he waited. "Well? There's still fifty more bucks in the sum total, sis."

"I'm getting it, hold your horses," the teenager yelled. She had each cash bundle carefully separated and wrapped up according to bill size. Unfortunately, the fifties were a little too secure. A little impulsive compulsive, you might ask? Nope, not in this family. At last, she found the correct tape length to peel and the paper packet fell open. She heard another gusty sigh come through the door, but ignored it. Carefully, she removed one ancient, frayed fifty. She could part with this one. Then, she came to an annoying realization. It wouldn't flatten out. The green paper bunched up unevenly on the carpet.

"Come on, Cass. What are yah waiting for," her brother complained.

"Hang on, and give me a minute. The fifty won't go through," she tried folding it, but the fold wouldn't stay. Now it was trying to wad up instead.

Kit groaned. "This would be a lot easier if you'd just open the door."

"No way, bro. There is no way I'm going out there. I just know you'll make me drive again," she protested. She had folded the fifty into a rough arrowhead design. That should make it stiff enough to slip under. 'Yes,' she silently enthused, only to bite her lip a second later. The front had gone through, but the rear part had snagged on the door. She frowned. Maybe she could unfold it just a little… She set to work, careful to not pull it back.

"You've figured out my master plan," Kit declared in a theatrical tone of voice. "I'm lying in wait for you. In fact, the Mitsubishi's here, too. It defied physics to climb to the top of the stairs just to scare you to death. Bwa-hah-hah-hah!" He finished with villainous laughter strait out of an old horror movie. His first sight of the final installment of cash caused him to choke, however. "What did yah do to the fifty," he demanded incredulously. "It's mangled."

"Well, I had to fit it through somehow," Cassidy justified. It was still sort of stuck, but with a little help on Kit's end, he could have it.

"That's why yah open the door, looser! And why is it behaving like it's stuck?" He wriggled around the visible end. Was it folded into a triangle?

"That would be because it is stuck," she retorted. "Look, just pull from your side, and I'll try to work it through from mine."

"This is insane," the redhead realized.

"Duh! But it's my method!" With that said, she went to work. If she flattened it here and poked it there… Maybe if she pushed down really hard, she could slide the fifty the rest of the way through. She licked her lips, tasting dust. She really had to vacuum in here, she noticed, distracted.

Kit raised one dark red brow when he saw not only more of the money slide out… but a set of grimy pink fingers along with it. Now that gave him an idea!

Cassidy yowled when she felt hard cold fingers mercilessly grip her hand. "Kit, yah jerk! LET GO!"

"Undo the lock and I just might Cass," the redhead smoothly replied.

"This is dirty dealing, Kit," she argued back, trying to pull away. Tears sprang to her eyes when her fingers were bent backwards.

"Cry me a river, Cass. You're driving," the redhead called back. He held on for all he was worth.

"Oh, boy, here we go again," a soft, familiar voice sighed from across the hall. The siblings froze for an instant and Kit's face became as expressionless as a card sharp's. Their mother, Mrs. Gina Nulte, didn't look fooled by the display. She had been in the middle of a crossword puzzle when the argument had started. When it escalated into full out war, it was time to investigate. She raised one dark eyebrow and waited with crossed arms for her son to answer. 'You'd think he would have mellowed out after he turned twenty-two,' she mused.

"Hey, Mom. Umph! Sorry about the racket. Cass owes me money." He was about to add what it was that had been purchased, but his sister anticipated him. Sharp feminine fingernails dug into his hand hard enough to draw blood, making him cry out instead.

Skeptical brown eyes observed her son knowingly. "Honestly, if you're going to go about killing each other, please do it quietly." A loud thump sounded as Cassidy lost traction on her sock feet and slid to the floor, hard. Gina and her son winced in sympathy; that had sounded painful. She rolled her eyes. 'Kid's would be kids,' she mentally shrugged. In their mother's opinion, fighting, in all forms, only made her children stronger. As long as they didn't ratchet up the medical bills or break an antique, she was fine with it. She turned to go back to her room, content to let them sort themselves out.

Kit's eye's bugged out as his sister became even more vicious in her efforts to free herself, so he took the last opportunity he could before their mother could disappear. "Cassidy has a new car," he blurted. Tensely he watched, then slumped in relief when Gina Nulte's eyes brightened. 'Ok, so he was a rat,' he admitted to himself. 'But she was going to find out eventually, and I get to be a rat that still owned all ten fingers. 'He could feel one digit going numb from his sister's return attack, and the rest were slippery with what he hoped was sweat.

"A new car," Gina asked in disbelief and no little suspicion. "You're joking." By this point, her daughter's fear of the open road had become almost legendary. Stories still circulated about the disaster at the DMV. She still wasn't sure how her daughter had passed the final test, but she didn't question it. A license was a license. Acquiring a car, however… Her eyes widened when Kit solemnly swore by Christian cross that he meant every word. They weren't religious, but they still avoided disrespecting the Big Guy. No need to bring down even worse trouble than life normally dished out. "I don't believe it, it's a miracle!"

Cassidy fought even harder, pulling like a maniac. If their mother was on board the whole torture by driving plan, she was doomed. She briefly considered the animal method of gnawing off a limb to get free, before rejecting the idea. This was her pitching arm!

"Uh huh," Kit enthused, doing his best to keep his hold on his bratty sisters hand. If he lost his grip now, she wouldn't emerge until next spring at the latest. He knew she had a stock pile in there. How else did she survive when she was too stubborn to do something they asked her to do? "She even drove us home after we bought it," he added.

The older woman stared at her son in stunned disbelief. "She did?"

"Well," he amended sheepishly. "I had to force her."

"Cassidy, come out here," Gina called. All struggling ceased. There was a slight click from the lock, and Kit let go, slowly standing to his full six foot four height. He considered the now shredded fifty before putting it in his pocket with the rest. He could always exchange it at the bank. Slowly the door creaked open, and the teenager emerged looking apprehensive. Ignoring this, the woman embraced her daughter. "Oh sweetie, your first car! Before you know it, you'll get over this strange phobia, you'll see. I have to tell your father. Maybe you could take us for a ride to show it off!" With happy enthusiasm, the woman raced down the stairs, Kit trailed smugly after her, and Cassidy haltingly followed as if to meet the guillotine.

______________________________________________________________________________

The Decepticon glanced briefly up at the door when his 'owners' came out, before going back to his calculations. What did he care what fleshlings did? He was going to be long gone by the end of the week. At one point, he'd worried that he'd been discovered. A few of his involuntary subroutines had kicked in earlier, causing a muffled thumping noise under his hood. Thankfully, there weren't any witnesses, and no-one had come out to investigate, so he'd continued. If he worked it right, rerouting a subsystem here, boosting a little power there… he silently cursed when all his screens flashed error messages. It was hard informing a state of the art power grid that even though he had more than enough power and no damage, he was still paralyzed. _One and a half hour's work, up in smoke,_ he mentally sighed.

Gina Nulte cocked her head, studying the thing her children had brought home. It was small. She tilted her head to the other side, the sun catching red highlights in her hair. It was ugly. A false smile stretched over her face when she realized her son was looking at her. "Well, Kit it's…," she paused a moment to try to find a good praise for the derelict haunting their front door. "Nice?" Her voice rose despite itself, as if she was asking him, rather than telling.

Swindle could easily hear the question in her voice and gave an unseen sneer. _Oh, like_ _you look picture perfect_, he taunted back. Of course, she couldn't hear him. Instead she was looking at her husband, who was also less than pleased.

Toby Nulte scowled down at the car in front of him. If his son hadn't informed him about their ownership of the new vehicle, he would have called the city to have it towed. Where was the flash? Where was the pizzazz? He'd hoped his daughter's first car would be a sports model he could borrow every once and a while, not a fifty six year old Mitsubishi Gallant. Still… for his daughter's sake… "It looks great Cass," he lied like a professional, before slipping to his son's side when she looked away. "Where did yah say yah bought this," he asked sotto voiced, the late afternoon sun glinting off of his glasses.

"The police department was selling off all their impounded cars to make room for this year's crop. It was practically a steal," Kit informed him equally quietly. He idly picked at the Band-Aids that now adorned his thumb and ring-finger.

A broad grin stretched across the older man's narrow face, despite himself. "Now there's irony." He then looked back at the squat sized Mitsubishi. "Well, the color's awful, but I suppose it's good enough."

Kit smiled when his phone rang, and he quickly answered. It was the perfect excuse to beg off on the whole family drive. Beyond that, he had to start packing. He figured there were very few places in Japan that catered to his clothing size. Nodding to his dad, he turned and headed back into the house. Their mom was already in the process of cajoling Cassidy into the driver's seat.

At last, Cassidy sat, her hands knuckle white, and adjusted Swindle's rearview mirror. She grinned nervously through his windshield. Her parents discussed the seating arrangements and opted to both sit in the back, hoping that it would make her more relaxed. The teenager checked the rearview mirror, again. She started sweating.

_Why do I have a bad feeling about this_, Swindle wondered uneasily. He tested his systems experimentally, but he was still effectively hamstrung. The most movement he could achieve with extreme effort, were the seatbelts, and that was only the barest jerk. Perfectly oblivious to the mounting tension, her parental units piled into the back seat.

Does everybody have their crash helmets," the teenager asked in a state of false cheer. She checked his rearview mirror for the third time in as many minutes.

_Oh, yeah_, Swindle realized. _That's why!_

"Don't talk like that Cassidy," her mother admonished while she pulled on a seatbelt. "Remember, positive thinking gains positive results."

Her father, who had been busy exploring the inner lining of the car roof and unknowingly pissing off a certain Decepticon, chimed in with his wife. "I know you'll do a wonderful job, sweetie. We just want yah to show off your new car." He cast a critical eye over the interior. "A little shabby, but not bad," he mumbled under his breath.

Swindle wanted to grind his teeth. _Shabby_, he silently exclaimed with hurt pride. _I'm state of the art! Something this organic is obviously too dense to recognize._

Cassidy frowned. "Nobody ever gets my jokes," she complained, only to shriek in terror and cling to his steering wheel at an unexpected touch. Her mother drew back from attempting to offer her daughter a comforting pat on the back, a worried expression dominating her features.

Now Mr. Nulte was frowning. "Yeesh, Cass. Calm down, it's just a car drive." He leaned back against the seat cushions, considering the problem. "I know! Why don't yah give your car a nickname, something to make it more familiar to yah? That way it won't seem so scary."

Checking the mirror for a fourth time, making the Decepticon shudder, she answered, "I do have a nickname for it." She made a grand sweeping gesture as if she was on a game show. "It's the Torture Car!"

_Ta-da, _camethe mocking fanfare from the vehicle around them, though he was unfortunatelyas yet unheard._ Oh, we're gonna get along perfectly_, he sarcastically added.He watched the teenager sitting in his driver's seat close her eyes and begin a mantra that consisted of, "I won't panic. I can do this. I won't panic. I can do this." Considering this, Swindle could only wonder, _Why am I always attracting the_ _weirdoes?_

The two adults behind her exchanged worried glances, before reaching across the seat and holding hands. Cassidy checked the rearview mirror a fifth time, swallowed, then with shaking hands she moved the gear shift out of park. Slowly they crept forward on the empty street. The seventeen year olds eyes darted here, there, and everywhere.

_What is she waiting for_, Swindle silently complained. If they were going for a nice relaxing drive, then in the 'Con's opinion, they should just get it over with. He'd endure it, and then get back to trying to become operational again. His sensors zeroed in on a fast moving object coming up behind them. It was in fact, the first car he'd seen using this street. They were nearing the stop sign at the end of the block, while the white convertible was coming closer. Cassidy put on his turn signal.

_She wouldn't_, the Decepticon wondered, growing tense. Another two cars going opposite directions at the intersection up ahead were about to pass each other. The teenager cocked the wheels, and then she applied the gas. Horns honked angrily from three different directions while Cassidy cringed.

_She did_, the car groaned, mentally rolling his optics. Now her parents looked a little pale, too. After traffic cleared, and several apologies later, they began to drive.

_And yet again, _Swindle silently complained,_ she's five miles below the speed limit!_ _Unbelievable! _He longed for control of his body, or at the very least the use of his voice. It didn't matter how intelligent other people were, or how worldly. _Just two minutes, and I'd_ _have them eating out of the palm of my servo. It would be easy to get out of this little family_ _outing, then_, he reflected, before faintly sighing. Sadly, wishes couldn't magically become credits, and neither could they repair his systems. He was rapidly coming to the realization that he was trapped here, at least for the time being. He'd have to run more tests to estimate for how long. Then he came to another realization. His bumper was on a direct collision course with…? _How can she not see THAT?!?!_

The trash truck loomed closer, and closer, and CLOSER! It was easily twice the height of his alt mode, and far more solid. If his shields were up, he'd have no problems. With those babies on, he could plow through the side of a ship's hull and barely feel it. But since they were down… Sensors abuzz with terrified static (enough that it filled his interior), and every wire tensed up, Swindle tried to stop. Just like before, he was still just as paralyzed. If he'd been in his bipedal mode, his optics would be bugged out. _OH, PRIMUS! I CAN'T WATCH!_

It took three yells, two of them human, and one from a silent Cybertronian, to alert Cassidy to the oncoming danger. She screamed and turned the wheel; the car swerved… and amazingly just missed it. They slid across the road with a loud squeal of tires, just barely avoiding jumping the curb due to some state of the art otherworldly brakes. _I didn't even loose any paint_, the huckster realized dazedly.

Her heart pounding, the organic in his driver's seat twisted to look at her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Nulte eyed one another with pale features and hair standing on end, before focusing back on their daughter. "Wow," she laughed shakily. "I must be giving my guardian angel a real workout!" As one, they all peered out at the trash truck across the road. It was one of those new automated ones the city had adopted when they got tired of the local unions declaring strikes. The last time the workers began their picket marches and increased pay demands, Detroit took one look at the new completely android operated trash compactors, and snapped them up. They were cheaper, less mouthy, and far cleaner. Unaware of anything besides what they were programmed to do, the two shiny silver drones loaded trash into the back of the compactor and moved on.

"So, can we go home now," the teenager hopefully whimpered. She gave her parents a doe-eyed pleading expression. "And… could one of you drive instead?" They stared at her.

Kit looked up from loading yet another suitcase onto the growing pile on the porch to see his sister's car pull up. He raised one perfectly strait eyebrow when she opened the back door and skipped off like she'd been given a new lease on life. In seconds, she was out of sight. He watched the car engine shut down and their parents climb out of the front seats in the middle of an ongoing discussion. "Maybe we should have her eyes checked," Mrs. Nulte wondered.

It's not her eyesight, Gina. She just needs more practice," Mr. Nulte argued back. He slowed down and wiped his brow with his handkerchief. "Maybe I make her nervous. I never coached her when she was learning how to drive, before." Their son asked what happened, to which his parents were only too happy to oblige. None of them noticed the car slump on his tires in what could only be described as relief.

Swindle was exhausted, and he could have sworn he saw his life flash in front of his optics at least once. He watched the humans head into their home, still chattering away a light year a minute. _I'm so tired, I couldn't even muster up the energy to come up with a proper insult for_ _each of them_, he realized unhappily. _Heh, not that they could hear me even if I did, _the business-mechamended. As the sun sank rapidly over the horizon, bathing the small suburban street in shadows, Swindle powered down. After an experience like that, he needed to recharge in the worst way. Sadly, he wasn't going to get it.


	3. Chapter 3

Confidence Game

Chapter 3: Camping Out

By: Mooncrossed

Wow! Only my second chapter in, and I landed on someone's favorite's list! Thanks! Also, thank you to all the folks that added me to their 'alerts' lists. I never expected it. As always, I don't own Transformers. Neither do I own Mitsubishi, the Internet, or Thermian weapons; those belong strictly to the people that created them. I'm making no profits, and it's strictly for entertainment. Now, time for the story!

* * *

Darkness descended on the peaceful little street of North Vale Avenue; one by one, the street lights flickered on. Swindle didn't notice. He had just entered into a deep sleep cycle, when a wailing screech reverberated off of his audios. He came online with a start. _What was_ _that?!?!_ He tried to switch on his scanners, and became even more nervous when they didn't instantly respond. Another scream rent the night, causing him to tense on his tires. _Where was he, the Pit? _He was very reluctant to admit it, but he'd always had a mild fear of the dark. It was nothing major, as long as he had something to occupy his processor. A loud snarl, followed by a feral hiss made the Mitsubishi involuntarily jump. Unfortunately, he was having a hard time distracting himself right now. Straining his optics, he peered around. This was hampered slightly by the spotlight of yellow that surrounded his alt mode. It confused his sensors and made locating the source of that noise even more difficult. At last he found it… or them as the case seemed to be, and silently snorted at his own sparkling fears.

They were small. _How could something so insignificant make such an unholy racket? _Swindle studied them as best he could, despite the fact that they were low to the ground and mostly in his blind spot. They were covered in soft fur. A low moan rose up, which was chorused by the other half dozen or so in the miniscule pack. Now that he was reasonably reassured of his own safety, the 'Con was just annoyed. _Couldn't they find somewhere else to_ _do… whatever it was they were doing? _ As the primitive organics blinked reflective eyes, slinked around one another, and ignored the vehicle next to them, Swindle sighed. _Apparently not._

Growing tired of the display, but unable to drive them off, he instead decided to examine his surroundings. The human abode loomed dark and silent, _About the height of an_ _average mech_, he estimated. If he stretched in his normal form, he could probably see inside the second story viewing port. _Not that I'd want to_, he amended. Humans had so few valuable possessions that they weren't worth his time. In fact, their entire planet was so resource poor, it was understandable why no-one in the intergalactic community had come calling. Earth was the planetary equivalent of a one horse town in the middle of nowhere. The only truly important factor to this location was Megatron. Now there was a mech with deep pockets. Why, he'd once sold an entire shipment of Thermian space mines for three times their intrinsic value to the old terrorist, and that wasn't the last sale he'd made, either. Swindle's windows grew misty as he recalled other major transactions. No-one had been more spark-broken when the news went out over the gossip channels that Megatron had gone missing and was presumed dead. He'd made some of his best sales to that 'Con, and had been eager to make more. He flinched as he was violently dragged out of memory lane by current circumstances.

A loud screech had risen up from one, who thrashed its striped hairy tail menacingly. Another of the creatures crouched and bared it's fangs in a show of rage, beginning to hiss. At long last, the results of his scan came through, and his search engine provided results. 'Felus Catus, a benign breed of feline commonly called the housecat…,' he read before flicking his attention back to the little nuisances by his back tire with distaste. They were getting louder, if that was possible. He quickly skimmed the contents of the article. 'Commonly hunt smaller animals such as rodents and birds…_,_' _yada yada yada. Come on, I want to know why they decided to herald in the dead next to me! _ Now the two felines, which his sensors could identify as male, had begun a weird kind of thrashing dance. Further shrieks and yowls rose into the air as the combatants vied for supremacy. _Ah,_ _here it was, 'Typical Behavior of the Common Housecat.'_ A little further into the article and he closed the internet window with disgust. He eyed the felines, five males and one in-heat female, which had all begun an off tune wailing chorus. _Terrific! I'm going to have to endure their stupid mating dance for at least another hour! Why would anyone want to keep these things for pets?_

So, there he sat, through not one, but two hours and twenty-nine minutes of audio shattering torture. If he had full mobility, he would have vaporized them. Since he couldn't, he tried to find other things to do. He scanned the internet, he listened to music, he played ninety-six consecutive games of hearts… _Will they never stop_, he groaned, at his wits end. He would order a deliberate recharge cycle on his systems if he could, but he was too on edge to make that possible. He'd just always had a hard time recharging in unfamiliar places. He eyed the street light lined suburban street he was parked on. _Especially the wilderness_, he mentally added. Swindle was by no means a scout; give him advanced civilization any time. He might occasionally trade with primitive cultures, but he'd never sleep there. Finally, with a mournful yowl, the last satisfied male left the territory and the street fell into blessed silence.

Swindle sagged in relief, shutting down his visual sensors. He was still a little tired from his ordeal earlier that day, and his systems demanded rest despite the location. A bird in the tree above him blew that out of the water. If cars could glare, he would be. A quick internet search identified it as a 'Mockingbird,' along with a song that was popular about a century ago in early rock and roll hits. _Why would they name it that_, he wondered, only to groan when it changed its chirping call to a very convincing feline yowl. _Ask a stupid question, get a stupid_ _answer_. In immobile silence, he endured the complete organic style recording of every cry, hiss, and scream of the last two plus hours. At last, with a final twitter, the bird wound down and fell asleep.

Swindle breathed a sigh, about to do the same, when the third interruption of the night occurred. He onlined his sensors, and squinted in confusion. _Now a car's chirping?_ He watched as a small red vehicle down the street flashed its dome lights, opened and closed its headlights, and howled its electronic guts out in what appeared to be a conniption fit. As if in shared pain, the blasted mockingbird joined in. The huckster felt like crying. All he wanted to do was recharge in peace, was that too much to ask? As the noise continued to assault the night, Swindle could only conclude that, _Yes, it was_.

He endured another twenty minutes of the crazed drone's antics, wishing he could simply destroy it with a well placed cannon blast. His only comfort was that this noise, at least, seemed to disturb the organic that owned it. He watched the man stumble out into the chill of the night, his car keys in his hand and a yellow bath robe on. The human fiddled with the button for a few minutes, before the car acknowledged the command and fell silent. Sleepily, he turned and shuffled back into his home.

_And the stupid bird is quiet as well_, the 'Con happily realized. He shut his optics, daring to believe the night's interruptions were over. And they were, for about ten minutes. The sound of muttering invaded his audios followed by breaking glass. _WHAT NOW?!?!_ Swindle silently wailed. The sounds got closer, but the Cybertronian kept his sensors firmly offline. If he didn't look, it couldn't bother him, right? A sharp piece of metal jabbing into his side made him wince. He onlined his sensors in annoyance. The sharp piece of metal jabbed him again, scraping the paint.

The sales-mech stared. It wasn't the ugliest fleshling he'd ever laid optics on, but it was close. The males face was covered in hair and the smell rising off of him made the huckster's sensor's reel. _What was it trying to do to him?_ He studied the organic as it squinted very carefully at his door lock before jabbing him yet again with his keys. More muttering ensued, too low and garbled for Swindle to understand. Poke, poke, poke.

The organic seemed to get angry by this point, and in a fit of idiotic rage, threw the keys to the ground. Swindle watched him stumble around waving his fists and shouting, before he stopped abruptly, and looked down. With slow hesitant steps, he shuffled across the grass, _Probably trying to_ _locate his keys_, his robotic witness decided contemptuously. Mumbling to himself, the organic carefully bent down, and eventually began crawling. Fifteen feet away, another car that was roughly his size waited, and Swindle could guess who the owner was. He also had a fair clue as to the organics true dilemma. _Terrific! An over-energized fleshy thinks he owns me._ He watched the primitive life-form crawl around cursing, idly noting the keys in question were actually behind the man. _Sigh_.

The human crawled around for another five minutes, mumbling about the whole world being against him, or something about that. Swindle mentally rolled his optics. _Try telling somebody that cares, Pal! Oh, now what? _In disbelief, the Transformer watched the human slip and fall face first on the ground. _He lost his balance when he was on all fours? Hah! This species was so underdeveloped, it was an insult to call them intelligent life forms! _Growing bored, but realizing sleep was out of the question until the walking distillery was gone, he scanned the radio waves. Talk show, advice channel, soft mood music (he'd keep that in mind for when he wanted some rest), some sort of horrible noise that he assumed they thought was music… He looked askance at the organic when he rolled over onto his fleshy behind and began muttering again.

Swindle's search abruptly stopped. He liked this music! It sounded almost Cybertronian, as if the instruments were trying to imitate their language. _Were those horns?_ He listened to the swaying emotional sounds, feeling like he'd found a piece of home. Of course, it was nowhere near as good as his people's music, but it would do. The tune ended with a rousing drum beat, followed by the typical hype of a DJ's spiel, and Swindle listened intently. _Rhythm and Blues, hmm…have to keep that in mind. _ Swindle blinked when the organic sniffled loudly, before beginning to weep. _Oh, for crying out loud! This is getting ridiculous. _

The organic muttered something along the lines of "Why did you have to leave me?"

_Oh, I don't know_, the 'Con silently commented. _Maybe it's because of the smell?_ With a sense of relief, he watched the organic slowly climb to his feet. Step by staggering step, the man slowly walked away. _Thank Primus!_ Suspiciously, Swindle scanned his surroundings. The cats were gone, the drunk was gone, the mockingbird was asleep, and the car down the block was shut down. At last deeming it to be quiet, he slowly powered down his sensors. He was going to recharge until the end of the month. That was when all the sprinklers at the Nulte family residence switched on with a soft hiss bathing the whole world, and one immobile Decepticon, in swaths of icy water. A silent, but no less frustrated howl rent the night.

* * *

At the crack of dawn, Swindle wearily opened tired optics. At some point he must have gone into recharge, despite the insanity of this planets night life. He wondered what could possibly have awakened him this time, only to get his answer when he focused on a pair of reflective green eyes. The same organic eyes observing him from the vantage point of his windshield wipers. Lazily, the small brown housecat stretched and yawned. With smooth grace it extended claws that tickled the Decepticon's armor. Pre-dawn sunlight glinted off of a miniscule name tag: 'Kali.' Swindle twitched and wavered, trying to convince it to leave. He was not supposed to be walked all over by anybody, especially an annoying human's pet. Apparently, that wasn't in the feline rulebook. With bored disinterest, she walked a meandering path, leaving little oily paw prints in her wake. _Shoo! Go away! Scat! Oh, who am I kidding? Nobody can hear me, let alone this little pest._ In glum silence, he watched the cat curl up in a warm fuzzy ball, right on the end of his hood. He sighed, feeling utterly ridiculous. This was not the height of fashion in hood ornaments. It was like he was the victim of a cruel cosmic joke. Then the mockingbird, in a last effort to endear itself to him, defecated on his roof.

_Ugh_, he exclaimed, feeling the sticky mess slowly slide down his passenger window. _What did I ever do to deserve this!_ His processor immediately supplied over a hundred examples of everything from cheating to raw business deals in the name of making a fast credit. And that was only the first installment of memory from this vorn, alone. _Alright_, he yelled silently to whatever god he'd offended. _I get it, no need to rub it in!_

A soft creak rose up from the organic's home. Grateful for the distraction, he zeroed in with his senses, only to stare. With careful patience, the human known as Cassidy removed the screen from one of the second story windows. Silently, she climbed out, pulling a black backpack with her. _Was she running away?_ He had to admit that after the horror of yesterday, he wouldn't blame her. When she closed the window and went to work reinstalling the screen, he had to conclude that she wasn't. Once that was done to her satisfaction, she silently crept to the edge of the roof. With practiced ease, she sent her backpack to the grassy lawn bellow.

Swindle waited expectantly for her to fall (Hey, it was entertainment). Maybe she'd break a limb. He was disappointed when she didn't. Instead, she was walking to the other side of the house, where a tree grew. _It's an almond tree_, his CPU helpfully informed him. He shut off the internet search engine with a snarl. He was tired, achy, and angry at the universe. What did he care what the local wildlife was called? Disgusted, he waited for her to grab the first branch, but she didn't. In a display of stunning acrobatics, she leaped off the roof and swung on the first branch like a monkey. She didn't stop there, either. Whirling with practiced ease, the femme did a full rotation before twisting and flipping to the next lowest branch. With a final flip, she landed on a grassy hillock down below. Then she ran.

In silence, he watched the little organic race away as if her life depended on it, only pausing long enough to scoop up her school bag. Swindle blinked. _OK, that was odd. Did she_ _always leave the house in such a manner? If so, why?_ He received his answer a moment later, when her redheaded brother came racing out the front door. He skidded to a halt on the dew covered sidewalk and looked around wildly, then snapped his fingers in disappointment. "Rats," he muttered, slowly walking back the way he'd come. "And I had the best scam lined up to make her drive to school, too."

Swindle blinked. Ok, in retrospect, it was probably a good thing that she had left in such an unorthodox manner. That femme was a real terror of the roadways, and he was relieved to avoid a second near death experience. He was mildly preoccupied with that odd movement the fleshy had done. It involved rubbing the thumb rapidly across the two closest fingers, which caused a loud clicking noise. He liked it. The cat adorning his nose trilled invitingly to the passing human, and the 'Con snorted in disgust. _Why couldn't you and your buddies have made those noises last night, hmm? Lousy, hair covered, disgusting-." _

"Kali," the man called softly back. He came closer, and the striped feline offered her chin to be scratched. Swindle could feel the motor-like vibrations of its purr through his armor. "Taking advantage of a warm engine, huh? And I'll bet yah were up all night chasing mice, too."

_Hah! I wish_, Swindle silently commented back.

"Well, if I have anything to say about it, this car's going to be long gone by the time you feel like taking a nap," he informed the cat. "The question is: How do I get my kid sis to drive while I'm out of the country?" The young man idly stroked the small animal perched on his hood while he thought over the matter. "Let's see, I'm leaving tonight on the red eye, so blackmail is out." It was only when he was gazing down the street that an idea hit, and a wicked smile slowly grew. "Kali, I believe it's time we visited your owners." Scooping up the affectionate feline, he cheerfully strolled down the street to present a mutually beneficial proposition. He had a plan to set into motion. Racked with curiosity, yet too tired to exert any effort to discover the organics plans, Swindle powered down to take his first, honest to goodness, recharge.


	4. Chapter 4

Confidence Game

Ch. 4 Plots and Machinations

By: Mooncrossed

_Aaak! Sorry for the long wait. That was the sound of my poor computer dying. After a lengthy hospital stay it's limped back into service; what a trooper! My uncle has also guilt tripped me into not attempting to fix the computer ever again, because I made the problem ten times worse. I had to retype the entire chapter all over again! For this segment I will say I don't own Transformer's, Mitsubishi, or Binford tools. Those belong to the companies that invented them. Enjoy!_

* * *

The Styrofoam cup trembled as boiling hot coffee squirted into it at high velocity. In Cassidy's opinion, it couldn't fill fast enough. She juggled her wallet and a banana muffin clumsily, attempting to retrieve the money to pay for it. What she had to do to avoid driving… Jeff, the young man behind the counter, eyed her skeptically. He was a typical Goth, with long flowing black hair and pale skin. "I heard you got a new car," he began in an inquiring voice.

"I don't want to talk about it," she interrupted, handing over the cash. Then, with her precious morning caffeine boost in hand, she raced out the door. She had to plot out the exact number of back alleys she had to cut through in order to get to school on time.

* * *

_Meanwhile, back at the house…_

The Decepticon groaned as his HUD flashed error messages yet again. Counting to a million to contain his temper, he reset his systems and started again. There had to be a way to convince his central computer that he needed repairs ASAP. He was getting near the point of swallowing his pride and calling for help, but not yet. For one thing, anybody he trusted to bail him out of this mess would expect him to pay credits for the favor, and that was a fate worse than off lining. For another, the ribbing he'd receive for his embarrassing plight wouldn't be very likely forgotten within the next millennium. Looking like a chump was an even worse fate than losing out on a few credits. Swindle closed his external sensors at a particularly painful rush of artificial wind. With baleful optics, he watched the human with the small primitive machine walk by again. They had showed up an hour ago, and he'd lost any and all hope of ever recharging again. It was a small band of workers who had pulled up in a disgustingly dirty land vehicle; one caked up with old oil, organic matter, and who knew what else. Now THERE was a state of disrepair and neglect he hoped he never got into.

Then the organics had gotten out their tools and turned them loose. All he had to say was that aircraft turbines were quieter! He gritted his dental plates as a man with a shaved head and numerous tattoos pushed one of the machines close by, spraying mulched grass, dust, and shredded insects all across his front grill. Another squishy in a torn shirt, with a blowing machine strapped to his back, sprayed leaves and more dust in a fine cloud… all over him. Swindle cleared his air intakes with a huff of recycled air, only to choke. There were now enough artificial poisons in the air to repulse EVEN him! The huckster was really beginning to understand Megatron's absolute contempt and dislike for this species of aliens.

An alert on his internal checking system pinged, one that he'd been eagerly awaiting for over a solar day. Once he'd read the results, the Mitsubishi unhappily slumped. _Great! Wonderful! I'm officially stuck here for the next four solar cycles! _One of the workers turned on a device that looked like a metal detector with a tiny propeller on the end at that moment. The 'Con cringed in disgust at the ensuing whirlwind of damp plants that assaulted his tires. A decapitated butterfly got sucked into his main air intake, and he spent the next two minutes hacking it back up. At last, with tears of wiper fluid streaming down, Swindle spat it back out. Before he could give in to the urge to curse at them in twenty different languages, another cloud of organic dust flew over the Decepticon's body, setting him to coughing and hacking yet again. None of the gardeners noticed. Who could, when you had a noisy gasoline powered machine strapped to your back, and your job on the line? Any day now, they might lose another client to Garden-Drones: The Next Step to a More Perfect Yard! Who cared about a stupid possessed car in the face of losing your livelihood?

If Swindle had known about their plight, he might have been a little more sympathetic. A wood chipper roared to life, belching clouds of black smoke and noxious fumes directly in front of the 'Con, and sending him into another round of coughing. Then again, Swindle also understood that the business world was one with a lot of cold-sparked ambition and predatory back-stabbing. He squinted as more dust blasted painfully against stinging visual sensors. It was probably a good thing then that the huckster didn't know; he probably would have given Garden-Drones a helping servo toward putting the organic field workers out of business through shear pettiness.

As it was, he endured the fleshlings noisy activities for most of the morning. By the time they were finished, he was thoroughly decorated on all sides. Plant matter and tiny dead and dying bugs coated his armor, and he didn't even have the luxury to shake it off. He looked like a special field operator in camouflage paint, except it was even worse. This wasn't the result of a highly specialized paint job by a professional artist. Shivering in disgust, he felt a weakly twitching grasshopper that was missing half it's thorax, slowly slide off his tailpipe to the ground below. _Ewww!_ It was all real, and it was all incredibly disgusting! When the sun came out from behind some clouds and began baking the entire sticky mass to his metal skin, he came to a realization. There was another level to the Pit, the Tenth Level: it was this whole slagging planet!

By the time the beat up old truck dove off, Swindle was practically on his metaphorical knees, begging Primus or whatever deity was close by, to please take him away from this Pit of a street. _I'm not that bad_, the mech whined silently. _I never kill if I can help it. I'm just an innocent little trades-mech, honest! And I only cheat if the customer really deserves it!_ Amazingly, this prayer worked, because he got his answer a few minutes later in the form of an ugly gray minivan. It sped around the corner and barely slowed down long enough to do a complete u-turn. In fact, it had to correct itself twice in order to properly fit it's square shape around, until, finally, it was wedged directly in front of him.

Swindle stared at the dented object dominating his field of vision. A bumper sticker advertising the latest presidential election stared back. It blocked his view of the street ahead quite nicely. He blinked before his natural good cheer began reasserting itself. Deciding to look on the bright side, he relaxed in the shade cast by the brick-like behemoth. _Hey, at least it's not an Autobot!_ Mildly curious, Swindle looked on as whatever organic that drove it climbed out. Imagine his surprise when the man that walked into view was none other than Toby Nulte, the father of his 'owner.' _Why do they need me when they already have another car?_ Puzzling over this, the huckster watched the human unlock the back hatch and slowly lift it open. Then he walked away, treating the Decepticon to a truly awe inspiring spectacle. At the sight of the vehicle's interior Swindle choked on a laugh. Sedate dark gray carpeting, and dull-silver interior walls, those were qualities any Cybertronian could live with. But the van's seats…? Bright red and black cloth decorated each chair, and that wasn't all! There were also flowers, huge garishly painted things, covering every square inch of the van's cushions. _It's enough to make a mech wince! This organic has to have the worst decorating sense in five galaxies! And he calls ME shabby and unappealing?!?!_ Swindle could forgive the tiny alien for his comments, now. Obviously nothing short of emasculating would meet the man's approval! Somewhat placated, he waited for the human's next actions, hoping they would be just as entertaining. He wasn't disappointed.

Dear old Dad came back into view staggering under the weight of a heavy suitcase. Grunting and softly cursing, he finally lifted it just high enough to pass over the edge of the van floor. With a thump that made the poor drone shake, it's burden was placed inside. After a few hard shoves, it was pushed to the far end of the interior storage compartment. Wiping his forehead, Toby left. A few minutes later, a groan announced his return. This time, he was carrying an oversized wooden crate, and almost falling over from the weight of it. It was placed right next to the suitcase. The next load on the list was a lighter looking, though no less bulky, rolled up bundle of cloth, and so it went. For the next thirty-seven minutes, the Decepticon watched the little human redistribute most of the homes belongings with ant-like efficiency into the minivan in front of him.

It was entertaining. He found himself running odds in his head on whether or not the organic would drop each weight he came into view with. It was also educational. Primitive alien transport behavior was a useful file to download; one never knew when a little slave labor would come in handy in the future. Swindle could also see a growing problem that the fleshy apparently couldn't. If he kept coming with more and more supplies… well, the van could only hold so much. Sure enough…

Toby staggered into view with the final piece of his son's luggage, only to stop up short. Where could he put it? The back was full to bursting and the roof rack already had a sizable pile. If he put the last suitcase in the only other location he could think of, it would effectively render two of the four available seats unusable. Running a handkerchief over his forehead, he racked his tired brain for a solution, before deciding he needed an outside opinion. The possibility that she would help him move some of the luggage didn't hurt either. "GINA!" It took a few more yells before the woman hove into view.

She blinked in the blinding sunshine, considering her husband, and could instantly tell what he'd been up to. "Oh, honey. We were all going to pack the car together!"

Toby sighed. "I know. It's just that I wanted to do something for the kid before he took off. He's already refused the check I tried to write for him. Who knows the next time we'll see-," he broke off when his wife placed a finger over his lips.

She smiled at him. "I know. I'm going to miss him, too." They embraced lovingly.

Swindle felt like gagging. Romance was all well and good by the huckster's standards, he'd just prefer if it wasn't performed by fleshies. A moment later, they broke apart, and the 'Con was grateful. _Thank Primus_, he mused. _If they'd engaged in 'lip sucking,' as this species seemed inclined toward, I might just lose control of my tanks._

"So what seems to be the problem," the femme asked in professional tones.

Her husband sighed and gestured with a sweep of his hand. "Too much luggage, and not enough room for people."

"Hmm," she mused. Reaching out, she pushed one of the suitcases slightly. It barely moved a centimeter. There wasn't enough room to fit a dime between most of Kit's packed belongings. She considered the roof-rack, and the possibility of sliding one more duffle bag on top. The odds didn't look good. "Is there anything he can do without for a few weeks," she asked. Gina picked up a long thin nylon bag resting on top. "Maybe we could mail this?"

Toby stared at the proposed postal candidate dubiously. "His Katana? Sure, UPS won't mind at all. I'll get right on that."

Mrs. Nulte eyed her husband. "They want him to bring his sword?"

He shrugged. "Don't ask me to understand the man's mind. Mr. Yakamura thinks it's important, and who are we to ask? He's the one that wants our son in pictures."

She only quirked and eyebrow in reply, before they both turned to consider the luggage problem again. Swindle was perplexed. _Why would an actor need a katana? Even if the organic was going to be an action star, they always used props for weapons to avoid injuring one another. What would be the point in bringing a real one?_ He puzzled over this mystery for a moment, before filing the query away. The organics weren't offering any further information, and there was no way for him to make his curiosity known, so he temporarily gave up on it. Maybe he'd find out later.

Gina suggested other candidates for shipping, only to be met with an answer in the negative each time, followed by an explanation as to why. If he had been in the femme's position, he would have lost his temper. Perversely, this human only became more amused. At last, she let out a laugh. "Too bad the roof-rack's full. We could have just strapped Cassidy up there instead."

Toby snorted at the suggestion. "And we'd tie Kit down to the front bumper like a hunting trophy," the man answered with equal gallows humor. The man shook his head, before focusing seriously on the problem, yet again. "Gina, it looks like we're either going to have to leave the luggage or the kids. It's your choice." He blinked as a new thought entered his mind, one with so obvious a solution that he felt like kicking himself for not thinking of it sooner. "Or maybe…" Green eyes locked with brown, before the couple turned to regard the small, mulch decorated Mitsubishi behind them. Unknown to the middle-aged couple, Swindle stared apprehensively back.

The woman was skeptical. "Toby, are you sure you want to subject the airport to our daughter's brand of road safety?"

Toby was less with the debating, and a lot more on the side of calculating. "The kid's got to learn some time. She'll be a grown woman soon; this will be a good character builder."

"I agree, but in traffic that bad…," Gina trailed off, imagining countless horrors the likes of which could only be seen in action movies, or on the rare occasion Cassidy took the wheel. It wasn't very inspiring, especially considering the fact that it would all be taking place after nightfall.

The Decepticon was going out of his mind. _She's going to drive me again?!?! To an AIRPORT of all places?!?! Over my offlined body! I'd sooner give refunds on all by top best sales transactions_, he raved. Of course, the organics couldn't hear him, and the caked filth smeared over his windshield hid the 'Con's uselessly rattling seatbelt buckles quite nicely. In growing alarm, he realized they actually appeared to agree on that course of action. Swindle watched the pair head into their modest, self-restored two story Victorian house. _No! Don't go back into that primitive little hovel_, Swindle yelled, completely forgetting his mute status. Frantically, he wracked his processor for things that organics seemed to like. _I'll give you cheap mechanical toys, shiny pieces of metal, anything!_ A slammed door and an empty front yard was the only response. _Slag._

* * *

Later that day…

At four o'clock sharp, Cassidy peered around the corner of the Spengler's hedge, careful not to disturb their yappy yard dog. Stealth was her key to success, if she could just made it up to her room. Then she could hide there until it was time for her brother's plane trip. She figured, once her brother was on the other side of the planet, it would be next to impossible for him to impose his diabolical driving lessons. Cass checked her watch… five minutes had gone by. The teenager had debated during gym class on whether she should arrive home early, or late. Both had their pro's and con's. On one hand and early arrival ensured that she'd take Kit by surprise, nobody ever expected her to arrive any earlier than an hour after school let out. Unfortunately, in order to arrive that early, she'd have to jog home with a heavy backpack on. When it came to confronting her brother, the last thing she wanted was to be tired. Cassidy glanced at the vehicle 'to be avoided at all costs,' and grimaced. It looked like it had been hugged by the Swamp Thing. Recognizing their handiwork, she realized that the neighbor's yard crew must have done their weekly cleanup. Quickly looking away, the brunet eyed her target: the house. Her other option was what she'd chosen, a late arrival. Even if she was expected, she felt there were better odds at succeeding against Kit if she was in top fighting form.

Deciding not to go through the front door, because it was far too obvious, she stayed off to the side. With creeping grace she edged along the foliage, making sure to stay within the shadows. As she came ever closer to her target, she slipped her hand into her hip pocket. If she did this just right… Slowly, she reached for the gate that led around the side of the house, and beyond it, to the backyard. The key slid into the lock with a barely audible mechanical click and turned. Cass smiled. After all, if you couldn't use the back door, what good was a full set of keys? She let out a startled shriek when the gate was violently kicked open. "KIT!!!"

The redhead gave her a slyly triumphant look, which quickly changed to angelic innocence. "What," the redhead asked. "You don't have to yell! But since I just happened to run onto yah, you can help me wash the car." Before his sister could offer any protests, he shoved an empty bucket into her arms. Muscling past her, he added, "And if yah are extra energetic with the chore, I won't make yah drive today!"

Cassidy considered him. "Are Mom and Pop in on this deal?"

"Our folks are taking a much deserved nap after loading the van; they have to save their strength for the trip to Detroit international." He set down the brushes and cleaning supplies on the parkway next to the filthy Mitsubishi, and gave the recalcitrant teenager a boyish smile. "Come on, it'll be a good bonding moment, one last light hearted memory before Christmas Vacation next year."

Cassidy snorted even as she lugged the bucket over to the waiting water faucet. "That's a matter of opinion," she muttered, even as she did what he'd asked. She started to take off her backpack, but though better of it when she saw the mud bog that most of the lawn had turned into. "Huh, sprinklers must have run last night." Deciding the bucket was full enough, she turned off the valve and began carrying it to her lazy bum of a brother. Only one detour had to be made.

Kit looked up from assembling the Super Deluxe Three In One Binford scrubber, soap sprayer, and car wax brush (hey, it had a lot of attachments), to see his sister's slowly retreating back. "Umm, Cass, I think Pop might object to your bringing a bucket of suds through the house!" If she tried to pull a runner, he'd tackle her. It didn't matter if she was armed with a gallon of water; he was planning on taking a shower later anyway.

Well aren't we paranoid," she grumbled. "And for your information, I'm finding a place to set this down," she yelled back. "My Nazi of a science teacher made us bring our biology books to class for her surprise inspection. The stupid thing weighs a ton."

"Boo-hoo," Kit whined back. "My big mean science teacher made me lug a book to class! Waah!" In a normal voice, he concluded, "Try college, sis. It's a whole different ball game."

When she slid her self professed one ton backpack off of her abused shoulders, Cassidy lip-sinked his words perfectly to mock him. As if to prove her point, it landed hard enough on the porch floorboards to make the house shudder. Predictably, a deep male voice drowsily called, "Whaa… Who's there…?"

Cassidy rolled her eyes. "It's ok, Pop! Yah don't need to get up, it's just me!" Ignoring his sleepy reply, she gave her brother a smirk.

Kit rolled his eyes, and went back to filling up the various nozzles on his little car wash toy. Really, anything with multiple working parts fascinated him. If he had a little free time and a whole lot of spare parts, she could probably figure out how to turn it into anything from a cell phone to a knock out gun. The bucket sloshing over onto his tennis shoes ended that idea. He scowled at his sister, who smiled sweetly back. In response, he thrust the multipurpose sprayer at his sister. "Here, you get to start on this side," he ordered, before the redhead stalked off across the sopping wet lawn. There was no way he was going to trust his kid sister with the hose.

Sparing a moment to scowl at his retreating back, she hefted the wand-like monstrosity and dubiously studied the buttons. It figured they were all in Japanese; now which one meant 'ON.' As she looked it over again, she felt like she was on a commercial. She could just see it now: 'New Pixie Cleaners! Why get your car washed the old fashioned way when you could just have pint sized imaginary creatures do it for you? Call today!" The teenager snickered softly, and her brother looked up.

"Telling jokes to yourself again, Cass," Kit wondered. He tugged the hose closer, noticing his sister's deliberately avoided eye contact. That told him that he was probably right, and he shook his head. "Yah got to be careful or people will start to wonder about your sanity."

"Shut up," she mumbled, a pink blush staining her cheeks.

"I'm just saying-," he began, but his sister ignored him. By sheer accident, she caused a blast of liquid soap to strike the filthy vehicle in front of them and effectively cut off their conversation. Kit shrugged and added tap water to the mix. 'Hey, if my sister wants people to think she's crazy, it's her business. She probably won't get a date any time soon, though.'

Swindle had immediately spotted the small human when she had first shown up, and he was rooting for her. Now that he understood that she had a good reason not to drive him (namely, to avoid off lining them both), he was all for her sneaking around. He watched her slow approach using the leafy green plants on the edge of the property for cover, and felt like he was watching a nature program. Carefully, she snuck closer, before making a rapid dash fore the side gate. That's when the huckster sensed something she couldn't, a second life-form just on the other side.

_Aw, nuts! She got caught! _Feeling disappointed, he watched her haggle with her brother over his fate, before the 'Con brightened. _They aren't going to drive me? Instead, I'm going to get a bath?_ Even though he hadn't known the fleshies cleaned their drone vehicles, it made sense. Swindle wondered what the human version of a wash rack was, before cringing at the sight of the approaching hose. _Oh, no, this is going to be as cold as slag!_ The first icy blast that hit his aft made him jump. Every wire in his body tensed to the point of cramping. Thankfully, the sensation was harsh, but brief. Then the girl came at him. While the soft bristle brush that ran along his armor felt slightly better, it also made him feel like a geriatric. He was used to doing things for himself. This was… on the whole… demeaning. Cringing through the entire experience, the Decepticon didn't release his breath until the hose was turned off. A chill breeze picked up, making him grateful for the rapid toweling off he received. _Well_, he mused tiredly. _At least the bird excrement is gone._ Sadly, that wasn't the worst step of the ordeal.

With a grand flourish, Kit took out a sheet of glossy white paper and stuck it to Swindle's back windshield. Cassidy jumped at the loud thump and stared at her brother as if he'd lost his mind. The redhead smiled at her expression and explained, "Just a little going away present for yah Cass. I saw it when I was out shopping earlier today." Then he slowly pealed the length of paper back off, leaving an image behind.

Swindle shuddered as the paper peeled away, leaving behind the custom decal. The Mitsubishi spared a long moment to study the ugly organic symbol marring his form, before shifting an unseen glare the redhead's direction. There were very few things that could remain permanent on a Cybertronian's body, tattoos were one of them. This was the main reason their species kept the faction symbol they were given, him included. He could already feel the primitive paint slowly imprinting and becoming fused to his very skin. Thank Primus it was only organic paint and adhesives; that could be removed. It didn't mean he was by any means happy, though. He'd have to shell out beaucoup credits to have it surgically burned off, and it would hurt like the Pit, too!

Kit raised an eyebrow at the odd jostling motion he could swear the car had just done, then he shrugged it off. "Must have been leaning against it," he muttered, before turning toward his unimpressed sister. "Now see? This is the Japanese symbol for luck. It's impossible for yah to crash now!"

"And the president dresses in drag," Cassidy sarcastically replied.

"Which one," the young man countered.

"Kit, it's a dumb idea! I don't even speak Japanese," Cassidy argued. She looked down at the white symbol now plastered to her cars glass, and scowled in disgust.

"But people will consider yah sophisticated," Kit tried with a winning smile.

"Until they try talking to me in a foreign language," she countered.

"Oh, just behave snooty. They'll think yah aren't answering for another reason. Besides, that's not the point behind this. It's there to build your confidence!" He continued to beam at her while she stared back.

"An ugly little symbol is supposed to make me willing to conquer the moon?" She raised her eyebrows, wondering if her poor brother had finally cracked. 'Maybe the acting gig is too much for him,' she wondered.

"No! Not the moon! And I don't even mean Detroit," the handsome twenty-two year old enthused. "It's to get yah to conquer the road!"

"Kit, yah sound like a military recruiter," Cassidy deadpanned.

"If yah believe it's lucky, it will be! Come on Cass, you can do it," Kit continued right over her comment. "It's the power of suggestion!"

"It's the power of insanity," Cassidy snarked right back, imitating his tone. "Kit, it's a dumb plan, and now you've made the Torture Car worse than it was before! I mean, isn't it bad enough it's painted puke green?" She gave the small car a sympathetic look, unaware that if Swindle could have, he would now be giving her a dirty gesture or three.

"Sea foam green," Kit corrected. "If yah were so against the decal, why didn't yah say something?"

"I did," she replied in exasperation. "You didn't listen!"

Swindle, meanwhile, had heard enough. He began digging through his programming with a single minded intensity he normally reserved for sales. His systems were slower than ten year oil, but it didn't stop him from retaliation. Was it childish of him? _Well, yes_, he admitted to himself, if only in private. But he was going stir crazy on this street, and that ugly little tattoo was the wire that broke the transport's back! So, it was with a feeling of gleeful vindictiveness that he spurted lubricant out on he ground, which slowly soaked into his tormentor's pristine white tennis shoes. Slowly, the puddle grew; he hoped it ruined the man's entire outer covering. Neither human seemed to notice as their argument continued. The Decepticon was patient; he had to be in his line of work. At last, he closed off the valve and waited for the fun to start.

Kit opened his mouth to counter his bratty sibling's latest claims, when he felt something wet touch his pants cuff. In fact, now that he thought of it, his shoes felt a little damp as well. Looking down, his cat's green eyes widened. "OH NO! MY PANTS," he yelped as he leaped out of the gutter. The bottom of his left cuff was now a deep blackish brown.

"What," the girl asked, before spotting his problem and beginning to giggle. "It serves yah right, Kit. Devine karma!" She laughed even harder when he lifted his white baggy pants into the air like a woman lifting her skirt.

The redhead looked up from examining his hopelessly stained designer jeans, with a mean smile. "I'm glad you're so happy, Cass, because you're taking the car to the mechanics." His smile widened when her laughter choked off.

"Wait a minute," Cassidy croaked. She gave the Mitsubishi a horrified look. "I did what yah asked. The Torture Car's all clean! That means yah can't make me drive it!"

"Nope, if you'll recall, the stipulation stated that yah had to be fast," he replied. With wide, careful steps, he moved on to the sidewalk.

"Which I was," she argued, crossing her arms.

"I noticed some dithering on your part," he answered, glaring.

"Name the exact time and present the evidence, then I'll believe yah," she declared, glaring back.

Kit snorted before looking yet again at his poor abused clothes. The shoes were even worse. Out of all the Nulte clan, Kit was the most fashion conscious. Looking less than his best was a terrible condition to be in, even worse than losing a game of wits to his little sister. That was when he landed on a solution. It was a cheap cop out, but what could he do? Standing around in smelly clothes for the next hour couldn't be crammed into his schedule. "Look, even though it's your car that did the deed, I'm willing to forgive it this once if you'll pay for my dry-cleaning bill and the ruined shoes. In return, I'll talk Mom into driving the car to get a checkup.

"Done," the brunet agreed. Solemnly, they shook on it, before her brother began his squelching journey toward the side of the house. He wasn't even going to attempt to restore the shoes to their original quality. The artificial fumes rising off of them gave him enough of a clue; not even a wino would want them now. They were definitely going in the dumpster. A half an hour later, Mrs. Nulte came out and drove him to get a tune up. Beyond that, he wasn't sure what happened, because it was so awful he erased it from the memory file.

* * *

_That night in front of the Nulte family residence…_

A tense silence filled Swindle's interior. Kit eyed his opponent with cold speculation before drawing a card. Cassidy, looking equally predatory, drew one card as well. The redhead's poker face was like that of a hit-man's. It was the kind of chilling attitude that could look through a person as if they weren't even there. Swindle could respect that; though, truthfully he was more amused by Cassidy's style. Hers was an expression of flawless boredom, as cool as a comet. Both siblings sat sideways in his front seats facing one another, the dome light their only source of illumination. What was their platform? Why, it was the oversized computer laptop that was bound for Japan along with it's owner, of course.

The teenager's heart-rate picked up, even if her face didn't show the difference. Abruptly, cards were slapped down on his center console, and the girl quietly stated what their silent observer already knew. "Full house."

Kit slumped at his defeat, before nodding and climbing out. Cassidy grinned and hopped out of her side, only pausing long enough to usher her brother into the driver's seat as if her were royalty. With a roll of his eyes at his sister's mockery, he got in. It looked like it would take a while for their parents to get ready; their mother was still trying to find her favorite book. "Yah were pretty good this time," Kit commented.

"Well, a game to decide who has to drive to the airport is pretty good incentive," his sister replied. 'And the fact that I've already managed to guilt Mom into driving it home makes it even better,' she silently added with a faint smirk. Her brother's next words, however, erased it.

"Yeah, that's why I took out a hole card," the younger man answered, with an equally devious smile gracing his features.

Cassidy looked at him sharply, recognizing that smug tone. "Like what?"

"I might have promised free rides to a certain neighbor of our acquantance in return for forcing yah to drive," the redhead hinted. He looked up ready to start the engine, only to relax. Now their father had realized he'd forgotten something vital and was running back into the house. Unperturbed, Kit mentally shrugged. There was a reason why they always got ready to leave an hour ahead of schedual. Mrs. Nulte cast a relieved look at them through the back window, thankful that her youngest wasn't in the driver's seat. Feeling mildly embarrassed, Kit pretended to drop something so she wouldn't see how red his face was becoming. Noticing his sister's continued suspicion, he dropped one more clue. "It helps that he doesn't have a license yet, not that that would stop him from taking a free ride that's offered."

Cassidy groaned unhappily. "Oh, no! The Weasel."

"Ah, ah. His name is Walcott Whitney Weisel the Third," Kit corrected, warningly.

Still slumped against the door, she groaned, "Well, he prefers Weasel." At her brother's askance look, she asked, "If you're folks were cruel enough to curse yah with that name, wouldn't yah stick with a nickname, too?" He was the annoying neighbor kid down the street, and he often dropped by unannounced. Just the thought of having to drive the skinny freshman to high school tomorrow already had her in a foul mood.

Swindle was left feeling puzzled. _What's so wrong with that nickname_, he wondered. _I've heard far worse designations amongst my own kind._


	5. Chapter 5

Confidence Game

Chapter 5: The Weasel

By: Mooncrossed

Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and a terrific New Years Day! It took a lot of prayer to get this one up, folks, so I am most definitely dedicating it to God! I don't own Puerto Rican Coffee, Toyota, Fort, Mitsubishi, UPS, or Transformers.

* * *

It was the whistling that first introduced him to Weasel. Swindle honestly hadn't known that humans could do that. He watched through the pre-dawn haze as the lanky youth approach the Nulte residence with a graceless walk, and pause, not in front of the door, but in front of the porch columns. The teenager glanced up, brushing aside his longish pale blond hair. To Swindle's surprise, the human then began scaling the building. Hands found a firm grasp, and sneakers discovered stable toeholds in places the Decepticon wouldn't have spotted at first. In seconds, he'd silently reached the porch roof and hauled himself up. Even straining his audios hadn't revealed a single scuff of noise from the invading human. Considering this, he accessed his systems and put a new priority on repairing anti-theft devices first. Then he went back to watching this new organic's antics with mild interest.

So far, he'd discovered that the few business contacts that might prove helpful to his current predicament were out of communication's range. His self-repairs, unfortunately, were also abysmally slow. Out of boredom, he started running odds in his head about what the fleshy would steal, and whether he'd get caught. Swindle studied the boy with a critical optic. He didn't look very intelligent, but then again, most organics looked stupid to him and behaved even worse. Add to that his clothes, a quick scan revealed garments that had previously been worn by at least six different owners. The arms-dealer included that in his calculations.

The blond was unaware of his silent audience, too intent on cat-footing his way to a special large bay window. He crouched down and carefully snuck to the middle of the clear barrier, making sure to stay out of sight. There, he listened with his ear pressed against the wall. Swindle boosted his audios to their limits, and could just barely hear the soft exhalations of the slumbering brunet inside. Apparently, the boy was pleased with his findings, because he smiled, raised a pale narrow hand, and rapped sharply on the glass. Cassidy stirred, before rolling over and losing consciousness once more. Rolling his frost blue eyes in exasperation, the boy knocked again. "Hey, Cass! Wake up!"

Tormented, the girl groaned and shifted in bed again. She'd had a long night. After seeing her brother Kit leave on a super expensive private jet with an entourage of rich Japanese movie executives, she and her parents had stopped off at a restaurant to celebrate. She hadn't gotten to bed until three A.M.; so, needless to say, she was dog-tired. "C'mon Cassidy," the blond whined. "Don't make me jimmy the lock! Yah got to take me to school!" He was now standing in plain view of the window, his hands on his jeans clad hips.

Cassidy stirred again. "Zzzwhaa…," was the first question of the day as she looked around her room. Another friendly knock caused her to focus bleary eyes on her window. A minute passed before she could comprehend the blond in the plaid jacket dominating her view. Considering the fact that the sun was just cresting the horizon behind him didn't help matters. She flopped back into her pillow and groaned, "Weathel, go 'way!"

Cocked his head in confusion, the scrawny organic replied, "What?"

A pillow flew with unerring accuracy strait for his head and bounced uselessly off the glass. The blond staggered back and toppled off the roof, only barely catching himself with one thin hand. Now that her voice was free of this fluffy obstruction, her orders were much clearer, "WEASEL, GO AWAY!"

Scrabbling, the thin blond just barely managed to regain his perch. Once he'd hauled himself back in front of the window, he carefully looked over his jacket to make sure there weren't any rips. This was his lucky coat, passed down for six generations of the Weisel family tree. It was also why he never washed it. "Well, that wasn't very polite," he commented, feeling mildly disgruntled. Cupping his hands over his eyes, he peered inside the darkened bedroom. The brunet was now a shapeless lump of rumpled blanket. In fact, the only sign that a person was somewhere in that mess was the hand hanging limply over the side of the mattress. A thin smile edged up over her tormenters face as a devious wakeup plan took fruition.

Straining on his shock absorbers, the Decepticon tried to see the fleshling's latest antics. Weasel disgustingly (in Swindle's opinion) licked his fingers. Then he placed them against the bay window. The sound of wet organic skin squealing against smooth glass filled the air, making him cringe. Apparently the girl inside felt the same way, because a thick book bounced off the clear barrier next.

"Whoa," the teenaged thief squawked in surprise. "Hey, Cass! You're lucky that didn't make the glass spider-web! Ha, ha!" A shuffling noise caught his attention and he looked up. Cassidy stood in the window, her curly brown hair standing on end, her eyes glazed over, and her mouth slack jawed with drool coming out. With zombie-like movements, she staggered toward him until they were face to face. Instead of running away in terror like any sane individual, Weasel smiled. Without a word, the short brunet pulled the curtains closed on him and marched away. "Um, Cass," he hesitantly called after her. "Are yah getting dressed?"

"Yeah, I'm getting dressed," she snarled back. "And NO, yah can't watch! There's no way I could sleep with yah lurking around. Should've called the cops!" Drawers sliding open and slamming shut punctuated her sentences, followed by the sound of rustling cloth and mumbled oaths of revenge.

"Oh, yeah," Weasel declared. "Well, you do that, and I'll use my cell phone to tell them about the pyramid scheme yah pulled on the freshmen class last year!" The blond spun with lazy grace to lean against the wall beside the window. An older woman in a hot pink tracksuit slowed down to stare up at him. He smiled and waved politely back, as if things were completely normal.

_Well, to be fair_, the Decepticon mused. _This situation might be ordinary for them. Cassidy certainly wasn't surprised to see him, just irritated._

Blinking, the fifty-year-old woman wondered if her eyes needed to be checked. She considered calling the police, or perhaps knocking on the door of that particular house to inform them of the boy on their roof, before changing her mind. Telling herself that it was none of her business, she resumed her power walking. Weasel gazed after her until she was out of sight, and wondered what was taking his friend so long.

Cass was having problems. She studied the open drawer in front of her; three rows of socks were displayed in all their brightly patterned glory. This had been her primary activity for the past ten minutes. Apparently, this task required higher brain functions than she was currently capable of. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she moaned, "Oh, I need coffee."

Listening in, Weasel commented, "Naw, who needs it? Give me a brisk early morning with lots of bright sunshine and chirping birds any day!"

"Of all the cat-burglars on the planet, I get to live one block away from the only morning person," Cassidy snarked right back.

"Hey," Weasel protested. "I'm just saying it's the best time of the day. Why, when that blazing yellow sun comes up through multi-colored clouds, it's an artist's dream-." The curtains jerking violently open cut him off mid-sentence. He jumped in surprise before peering cautiously up.

She glared at the cowering blond for a count, before offering her own answer. "Weasel, I hope yah get twenty-nine to life."

Speechless, he watched her march out of her room, snagging her backpack as she left. The blond came to his senses a second later, shouting out, "Hey, wait Cass! Let me in before yah go downstairs!"

"Use the door like everybody else, Walcott," was the distantly shouted reply.

He pouted at the unwanted use of his given name. Sighing, the blond turned and began the arduous task of climbing back down. Naturally, this was more difficult than going up, because he couldn't see where he wanted to go, only feel. Despite this, his sneakers touched the grass in under a minute. Three successive doorbell rings later and the door swung open. "You're a real grump in the morning, yah know that," he informed the girl he'd known since the first grade.

Without a word, Cassidy turned and went into the house leaving the door wide open. Weasel followed happily after her. A second later, and she came back to give the entryway a solid push closed. "Thieves," the girl mumbled, rolling her eyes. "I'd be quiet if I were you," she warned the talkative blond. "Pop threatened to string yah up by your ears with your own burgling gear."

"He's also overly mean in the morning," Weasel noted, though he wisely lowered his voice. "Maybe it's a hereditary thing. Or maybe… it's the addiction to caffeine. I'll bet if I took out all your coffee," the blond began.

"You take out my exclusive Puerto Rican blend, and I will take you out. Capiche," Cassidy shot back, instantly hostile. She glared daggers up at the health food obsessed blond in warning. Only a little more pushing on this matter, and it would be literal.

Weasel gulped and backed up a pace. He was well aware of the Nulte fascination with medieval warfare. Having no desire to volunteer for a free demonstration, he rapidly found a different subject. Satisfied with the blonde's surrender, she went back to her brew and he sagged in relief. Like always, a few minutes later he shrugged it off and forgot the incident ever happened. Such was the friendship shared by the fledgling pair of outlaws.

Eavesdropping adios tuned out of the conversation in favor of looking up the odd foreign word that had been uttered. _Hmm_, the huckster mused. _Italian slang for 'understand.'_ He sort of liked how it sounded, and it seemed to make the other fleshy abruptly stop any and all actions concerning the caffeine plundering of the Nulte household. Always on the lookout for a new edge, he decided it was definitely something to keep in mind. Then a new dismaying thought occurred to him. _And frag, I lost my bet with myself! The boy didn't steal anything aside from sleep, and he deliberately announced himself, too. It was very unprofessional. Still_, the 'Con mused, _if they were business partners_, _or friends... _at this last thought he shuddered._ I suppose it's understandable behavior. _

Finally, with five minutes to spare by Swindle's chronometer, the two teenagers re-emerged from the primitive organic dwelling. Cassidy tramped slowly around his alt-mode, yawning. Weasel on the other hand, raced to his side like a supercharged turbo fox. "C'mon! Hurry up! My grandmother could move faster than this," the blond declared. With every exclamation he jerked the door handle just a little harder, making the Decepticon flinch. He longed to just slam his door in the boys face and be done with it.

Cassidy ignored him, yawning yet again. She dug her keys out of her pocket, slipped them into the lock, and paused, "Weasel." The teenager in question jerked up in surprise at her abrupt change in tone, and their eyes locked. With words like melting chocolate and eyes to match, she coaxed, "Who says we have to go to school today. We could just ditch, most of the teachers hate us anyway."

"Wow, Cass." he breathed back in awe. A wide grin dominated his narrow face, "You're getting good! With that kind of talent, Uncle Townsend would hire yah in a heartbeat!"

Brown eyes widened, before she pouted in disappointment. Cassidy completed the task of unlocking her door, and slumped into her seat. Staring forlornly out the windshield, the brunet waiting for her erstwhile partner in crime to get in. She did NOT want to drive! Why couldn't the world understand that?

Weasel tumbled into the passenger chair, and took a moment to knowingly consider his friend. "Your ma wouldn't drive yah to school, huh?"

"The woman wouldn't even take a bribe," she whined back. Unhappily, the brunet dropped her head to the steering wheel in front of her.

"Aww, poor Cassidy," he crooned in genuine sympathy, rubbing her back. Then with mercurial suddenness, he switched gears in a way that was purely Weasel. "So are we gonna drive yet? Huh, huh, huh? I can't wait to show the rest of those poor schmucks on campus that we've got a CAR! It may be a lime, but at least it's got wheels! Come on, let's go!" The blond bounced in the chair like he was spring loaded, giving the world a look of happy excitement. Abruptly curious, he popped open the glove compartment in front of him and began riffling through its contents.

A rueful smile stretched across Cassidy's face despite herself. Sometimes something familiar could go a long way toward soothing raw nerves. Weasel, the kid she'd practically been raised with, counted. Sitting up, she brushed the curls out of her eyes and turned the engine. "Well," she muttered, grasping the wheel with shaking hands. "If I have to visit chaos, I might as well take an experienced guide." Chaos was right; some of the worst traffic Detroit had to offer happened right around her campus Monday through Friday. Her skin became a slightly more unhealthy shade of pale at the thought.

As high schools went, Detroit City High School was fairly ordinary. It had its typical share of ancient buildings, school bullies, and overworked teachers. Even the fact that they had computers for every room wasn't all that odd; this was the robotics capital of the world. The only difference between this school and others was what was across the street: an old folks community. It was a well-known fact that the elderly and the young generally didn't get along. This wasn't due to anything personal; it was just the way life tended to be. Everyone could accept that!

So when the city council declared that they were going to allow a huge retirement community to be built directly across the street from the local high school, only insanity could result. Detroit's population vehemently protested this ludicrous move. "Traffic accidents would occur," they said. "Grandfathers crossing the street would be run down! Little old ladies will beat our sons to death with their sixty-pound handbags," they ranted. This fell on deaf ears, mainly because the city council was only interested in one thing: lining their pockets. Since the construction company was more than happy to accommodate them, the community of Aging Willows was built. From that point onward, that section of town had become a growing powder keg of controversy that people studiously refused to talk about. Better that than the city receiving a black eye from the rest of the planet.

Blissfully unaware of the war-zone he was about to visit, the unsuspecting Decepticon turned left heading away from the relative safety of North Vale Avenue. Instead, he was concentrating on the simple pleasures to be had in his meager existence. Swindle shivered in relief as his engine sang to life. Sitting for so long was beginning to make his wires kink up. _Even if fleshies are driving me_, he reflected, _it's worth it to avoid getting seized up gears._ In fact, aside from the lack of horsepower, and the squirmy passenger in his right front seat, the drive could almost be considered pleasant.

* * *

_Ten minutes later… _

Swindle was going to make a killing, and he wasn't talking sales. How anyone could be expected to survive on this road was beyond him! He gritted his dentas as much as he could in his alt-mode as four cars whistled past with inches to spare. Really, that didn't bother him. Even the high congestion of organic pedestrians, that couldn't seem to understand the concept that the slightest collision would splatter their measly bodies, wasn't very distressing. He'd been on foreign worlds where the population overflow was twice as bad. What was truly agitating was the fleshy hanging halfway out of his passenger side window.

"HEY, YAH OLD WOMBAT! GET OFF THE PAVEMENT," Weasel bawled while waving a fist. Worn out eyes squinted through a sea of wrinkles at the young upstart in the plaid jacket, before she gave a rude gesture in return. The freshman's jaw dropped in shock, before he returned the gesture with interest. Comically, this was the moment he lost his balance. Arms gyroscoping wildly, the scrawny blond fought to maintain his balance and look 'cool' at the same time.

An inaudible whimper escaped Swindle's vocals as the metal studs decorating Weasel's jeans rubbed painfully against sensitive window seams. He longed to just toss the annoying fleshy out and be done with it, but he couldn't. _Why, Oh why did I ever think selling that lousy paralyzing device was a good idea_, he moaned. The obvious answer to that was: credits, thousands of credits, all for the taking if he managed to sell it off quickly enough. His optics glazed over at the mere thought of so much wealth, unfortunately lost. _That pocket watch is probably in Autobot custody by now. Of all the slagging luck!! _

"Weaz, get back in the freaking car," the unfortunate in the driver's seat screeched. She was gripping the steering wheel so hard that even a Cybertronian could feel the pinch. Up ahead was the institution everyone loved to hate: high school.

At last, the old biddy hobbled up onto the opposite sidewalk to get her newspaper, and traffic rushed to life in her wake. Weasel slid back into his seat with a bounce. "Some people just shouldn't be let out in public," he informed his stressed out friend. He shook his head. "Can yah believe that woman?" His pale eyes widened and he thrust one pale scrawny arm under Cassidy's nose. "Ooh, turn here! It's a good shortcut!"

Swerving wildly, she just barely avoided crashing into a UPS truck. She batted the visual obstruction away hard enough to leave a handprint. "Weaz, if yah do that again you'll make me crash!" A stoplight turned red and she thankfully applied the brakes, before giving her neighbor a withering glare. Weasel blinked back, his face a perfect display of clueless innocence. 'Sadly,' she reflected, 'he's being completely honest, too.' Sighing to herself over the trials she had to go through, she focused back on the road.

A knot of people filled the crosswalk to overflowing. From one direction came elderly gents with walkers, trembling aunties with umbrellas, and aged punks wearing leather and spikes. Approaching from the other side came teenaged tech-heads, wannabe cheerleaders, and jocks. Both sides shouldered and pushed past one another in an endless cycle of mayhem. In other words, it was a typical Monday morning.

When the light went green, they still had to wait, because apparently everyone was colorblind. One hapless cop stood on the corner trying to direct all the chaos. Weasel twisted and craned his neck trying to get a glimpse of the policeman's face. "Huh," he commented good-naturedly. "Looks like Herrera drew the short straw this week."

"He's not the only one," Cass grumbled back. "And put on you're seatbelt!"

"Why? It's not like the cop would notice," he answered.

"Because I will hurt you if you don't," she ground out. Pedestrian traffic had cleared out, but that didn't mean they were out of danger yet. Up ahead, a traffic jam of epic proportions clogged the street. It consisted of good Catholic biddies driving slower than sludge, and teenagers driving faster than the speed of sound. Add in all the jaywalkers, and it was amazing that only one death had occurred since she'd started coming here. Cassidy scooted in behind a blue haired crone in a reproduction model-T. That was when she experienced one of the main reasons she never wanted to drive. She flinched and her hair stood on end as MrTufGy, as his license plate informed them, slammed on his breaks mere centimeters from her rear bumper. The teenager in the massive green truck glared at them angrily and pounded his horn to express his opinion over their taking his spot in line, before driving in a different direction.

"Unbelievable," she breathed, her stomach lurching at the close brush with death.

"Who gave yah a license, yah jerk," Weasel shouted after the testosterone-ridden athlete, before he glanced at the scowling brunet sitting next to him. A death glare was her only answer, but it was enough. Eyes bugged out in alarm, the blond dove for his seatbelt. One thing he'd learned over the years, never piss off a girl, particularly if she had the last name Nulte.

Finally, the school's proud tower stood, with its reproduction 1930's construction and cold brick façade. This was the worst part of the journey as far as Cassidy was concerned, because of the mom-jam. For those of you who don't know the term, let me elaborate. A mom-jam occurs when parents are either picking up or dropping off their kids. If only ten cars were involved, this would be fine, but since the amount of cars is usually five times that, it becomes a mom-jam. It didn't stop there, because once the kid had flown free, the mother would gun her engine in instant impatience at the swarm blocking her way. Even though the average mother loved her children to the point of smothering, she could care less about the other three hundred or so blocking traffic.

Minivans three car lengths deep, blocked traffic in a near permanent parking job. Teenagers, desperate to escape the embarrassment of being driven to school, bailed at the first opportunity. Cassidy slammed on her breaks as an Asian kid stopped to tie his sneaker directly in front of her bumper. She cringed at the resulting cacophony of honking horns behind her. They were forced to crawl to a halt next to a fifty year old Latina in a black Toyota with really annoying loudspeakers.

"This sucks," Weasel complained morosely, but then an idea came to him. "Hey, I know!" He leaned down and flicked on the radio, then cranked up the volume to drown out the audio torture next to them. "Hah, back at yah, yah crazy broad," he shouted at the woman, who scowled back. All around them, drivers were giving them dirty looks. The Latina, showing how mature and responsible she was, turned up her radio even louder. Weasel's blue eyes widened in surprise, before they sharpened in determination; he reached for the radio.

"Weasel, if yah touch that dial one more time, you're losing a hand," Cassidy threatened at the top of her lungs.

"But she's challenging us," the blond hollered back. "We've gotta stand up for our honor!"

"I don't care! It's impossible for me to concentrate with it on," came the answering yowl. Cassidy's curly hair was standing on end as the dulcet notes of Mozart struck her eardrums at two hundred decibels. Any louder and she'd probably pass out from the agony of it all. "Shut it down, or I'll shut you down! No wonder yah mother makes yah walk!"

"But yah said if I touch it again, I'll lose a hand," Weasel protested. The glare she sent his way was enough of a convincer. Seconds later, blessed silence replaced the agonizing wall of sound and Cassidy sighed in relief.

The lady in the truck nodded with sneering triumph and moved further up in line, her music shuddering the air around her. In mournful silence, Weasel watched the car leave, before turning to Cassidy. "Yah won't see me being that rude when I have my license," he told her as if he was making a solemn vow. "When I win a speaker war, I'm going to be gracious about it. Not being all insulting and mea-," he broke off as he caught sight of something just beyond the trees, and dove across Cassidy's lap straining the seatbelt to its limits. "Ooh! Look at that!" Up ahead, painted in prominent red, white, and blue, and standing at an easy three stories tall, was a Transformer.

"Get off of my lap, yah goof," Cassidy yelled. "I don't care if an alien's on the school lawn! I don't even care if yah spotted Elvis! Sit down or I'll belt yah into next week!"

"I am belted," he quipped back with a fast smile. He brushed pale hair out of his eyes and peered up at the alien. "Hey, Cass, he's got a weird red decal on his chest; it kind of looks like a face. I wonder what it means."

"I have no idea," the much smaller teenager muttered, shoving him away. "All I know is it's made the road ten times worse. Look at this! Everybody wants to stare at the alien! Someone's going to have an accident, I just know it."

"Eh, you're no fun," Weasel brushed off his friend's fretting with an offhand wave. "It's the kind of thing I've been dreaming of, aliens landing, making first contact? This is science fiction made real!"

"Destroying half the city and jacking up our taxes as a result," Cassidy added.

Weasel ignored her. The blond knew it was just the early morning making her cranky. Add in her driving phobia, and she was a real mess. "Is that an axe? Wow, does he look bored," the he commented instead.

With a dark flash, a motorcyclist speeding between the cars almost lost control. It barely avoided slamming into them from behind. Weasel jumped when the Mitsubishi's horn blasted, before casting a slow look toward the spaz his friend had turned into. She stared in shock at the steering wheel, before smiling nervously back. Deciding her hand must have slipped, she changed the subject. "Yah see! That's exactly what I'm talking about! I don't mind them staying here, but do they have to cause so many problems everywhere they go?"

"It's not their fault," he answered with a rare contemplative frown. "Everybody's excited because they're the cool new thing." That was when a familiar reckless smile flashed across his face. "Hey Cass, I've got a great idea! Let's flip him off!"

"What," Cassidy barked. She took her eyes off the slowly moving traffic jam, wondering if he was nuts. His smile told her all she needed to know. "But what about all that 'Hello Future, Goodbye Mediocrity' trash yah were spouting a moment ago?"

Absently, he commented, "It's still there." The blond craned his neck to get a good look at the robot's face. All he could see were metal pectorals. Frowning, he undid his seatbelt. "It's just that I suddenly realized, I'll bet nobody ever tried giving one of these guys a dirty gesture before." He frowned when the window went up all on it's own without his influence.

"Nobody's done it, because they don't have your sanity issues, Weaz," Cassidy dryly stated keeping her finger on the window controls. She felt a little more comfortable now that traffic had ground to a halt. All around her were gawking motorists, too distracted by the alien to even think about driving. It was a lot harder to have a high-speed crash when you weren't moving. The thought occurred to her that she could probably turn off the engine and leave, which made her smile.

"Aww, Cass, come on! It could get me in the news," he pleaded with her. "And it'll be an educational experience for the big guy."

Cassidy raised her hands and began reading off a fake bulletin. "Insane Blond Stomped to Death By Angry Robot! See page eleven for details."

Pouting to himself, the sneak thief sank his lean form into a dejected slump against his chair. He waited until his friend had dared to relax, before he made his move. "I'm doing it!" With that, he threw the door open, waited until the Autobot was looking his way, and enthusiastically waved his special solute.

"WEASEL," she screeched making a fruitless grab for him. Settling for pleading, she tried to reason with him. "Do not piss off the giant robot," she hissed. "He's got a bigger shoe size than the Statue of Liberty!" Undoing her seatbelt she strained harder. She could almost reach his ratty old moth eaten plaid jacket. Just stretch a little further…

Optimus Prime looked down at the sudden high-pitched voice near his feet. And blinked his glowing blue optics. Why, it was an adolescent of the species, and he was… The leader of the Autobot contingent on Earth squinted, as he tried to make out the odd gesture the boy was giving him. Deciding it must be another cultural variation of greeting, the Prime waved back the in the same fashion. He couldn't understand why the school's Vice Principle appeared to be so uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"Maybe you should visit some other time," the woman suggested after a brief silence.

"Hah, hah," Weasel laughed, even as he was bodily dragged back into his seat. "Did yah see that?!?! I don't think the big lug even realized what I meant! Oh, I've gotta tell the rest of the guys!"

"Ejection seats," the frazzled brunet mumbled. "Why couldn't my car have ejection seats? Then I could just toss him out with the press of a button." She was unaware that her car actually had that very useful feature, and it was wishing just as desperately that she would use them.

* * *

Swindle was about to go out of his ever-loving processor! Or have a fit of road rage! The Decepticon wasn't sure which was more preferable. So far, he'd been cut off five times, tailgated half a dozen more, and now… Now he was stuck behind a vehicle moving even slower than the fleshling driving him, if that was possible. He scowled at the golf cart blocking his way.

He honestly hadn't noticed the massive Autobot standing on the lawn up ahead, mostly because he was too busy cursing out the motorcyclist that had almost driven up his aft. The moment the words "Alien," and "Red Decal" registered on his processor, he was instantly attentive. It only took a second to locate the Autobot, and when he did, he swallowed hard. Right there, close enough for him to spit at was a PRIME!?!? Curse words spilled across his processor as he scrambled for a good means of escape.

Unable to transform, incapable of drawing a weapon, and owning one very paralyzed vocal processor, he was a sitting target. Clogged traffic of the masses effectively boxed him in on all sides. With an effort, he relaxed his fuel pump to a calmer pace. _Ok_, he coached himself. _Stay calm. I'm just an ordinary car on an everyday drive. As long as he isn't actively scanning me, he won't recognize what I am. AND WHAT IS HE DOING?!?!_ The car looked comically alarmed when a certain scrawny male leaped from his passenger side, and began flagging down the Autobot with the nine-foot long battle-axe. When Weasel presented his special solute, the Mitsubishi thought he was going to have a spark-attack!

Abruptly, the traffic jam from the pit seemed to melt away. Swindle was in a state of shock. Where was the explosion that would extinguish his spark? What happened to the Autobot blade he'd been sure would cut him in half? It took him several moments to realize that not only was he alive, he was still undiscovered. By this point, he'd coasted to a stop in one of the few empty parking spaces left.

In stunned silence, he watched as the two teenagers disappeared into the distance, before examining his surroundings. It was an average size parking lot, filled to the brim with various cars. He waited. One thing he'd learned from spending two absolutely awful nights here, it was that there was always something unpleasant ready to bother him.

Not a soul stirred. He did a sensor scan to check for life-forms, and came up empty. There weren't even any trees growing here. Still suspicious, he expanded his search deciding to locate his 'owner.' "Ok, class," a distant fleshy voice announced in delighted tones. "Pop-quiz time!" Youthful groans rose up in reply.

Swindle frowned in confusion. _What is this place?_ _It's almost like a prison for younglings! _

Movement caught his optics and he focused, only to stare in surprise. About thirty organic younglings wearing uniform clothing were jogging across the grass just inside a woven wire fence. A much larger human stood with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He raised a small metal whistle to his lips and blew a harsh tweet from it. "Come on," he demanded. "Pick up the pace! My grandmother could run faster than you!" The youths moved faster, liquid streaming down their faces and glistening off their skin. He fisted the collar of one of the weaker pack members, and shouted into the boy's ear, "I said run faster, you little rooster! This isn't a pleasure cruise! Move!" Tossing him back into the greater group, the male in charge casually crossed the track to keep pace with his prisoners. Swindle blinked when he abruptly recognized that particular target: Weasel!

Sitting in mute contemplation, the 'Con listened to the moans and groans of thousands of fleshies all around him. In his immediate vicinity the parking lot was still, birds and cats were conspicuously missing from the greater area. He was sitting in an oasis of paradise in the midst of a churning world of torment. Only then did he laugh, but not his normal laugh, how could he? Still, a faint wheeze or two gusted out of his intakes. He was finally beginning to understand how this planet worked. _When everyone else is enjoying them-selves, I have to suffer. But when they are unhappy… _The sun chose that moment to peer through the clouds and he sighed in contentment, stretching out on his tires. _It's just a matter of give and take_. _I can understand that! It's how I make my living century in and century out. _

Yet again, the small pack of organics passed by the flimsy chain-link fence, his blond tormentor bringing up the rear. Weasel looked even more miserable than before, his shirt soaked through with sweat and a blue tinge to his pale skin. _This_, he reflected happily, _easily makes up for the near offlining that bothersome little organic almost caused to happen to me._ Swindle offered a cheerfully waved seatbelt behind the safety of tinted windows. In a state of pure bliss, the Decepticon shut down his sensors and, for the first time in a long while, recharged.


	6. Chapter 6

Confidence Game

Chapter 6: The McGuffin

By: Mooncrossed

Hey everybody! Hope you're enjoying the show, because the plot's heating up now! I want to thank Mikoto-Chan92 for the cool review. Don't worry about Swindle, he'll start getting even soon… poor Cassidy. I don't own Transformers, the Illinois State Penitentiary, Sedans, Toyota, the song "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall," the "Maltese Falcon" movie, and Tiffany's Jewelry.

At the Autobot base, some time around 10:30 AM…

Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobot contingent on Earth, sworn enemy of the Decepticons, and hero of the human race… needed a nap in the worst way! The massive alien vented out a sigh of recycled air. So far this week, he'd made twenty-three promotional appearances, put in sixty-three hours of community service, and nineteen hours of general cleanup from the last knock down drag out fight with the 'Cons. All without getting one iota of recharge. To top it all off, he'd just had an epic battle with Starscream, so needless to say, he was feeling pretty worn out. Prime dragged tired peds toward his berth, intent on sleeping until the next millennium rolled around. He'd just lain down with a creaking of parts, when his communicator went off. He groaned and onlined blue optics. "Yes, Prowl, what is it?"

The Autobot's calm British accent crackled to life through the speaker, "Sir, we have a situation."

He sighed, staring up at the distant ceiling above his berth. "What is it, Prowl? Is Starscream on the rampage again?"

"No, Sir."

"Constructicons out looting an oil refinery," was the Prime's next guess.

"Unfortunately, no," the tactician answered. He paused a moment to navigate a particularly difficult roadblock, before continuing. "If you'll recall, there was a situation about a month ago involving a group of organic criminals. I believe they referred to themselves as the Society of Ultimate Villainy."

It took Optimus a moment to access the appropriate data packet. When he did, he couldn't help grinding his dentas a little. "Those lunatics have been let out again? I don't understand the organics. If you have a prison, it should be for imprisoning! Not keeping them for a week or a month, then letting them back out! What are they thinking?" He would have continued, but the tactician interrupted.

"No, sir. As far as my data shows, the humans in that group are still in Illinois State Penitentiary, with the exception of the one code named 'Princess Powerful' who is in Juvenile Detention." Prowl turned a corner to avoid a red light and barely avoided careening into a drone hotdog vender. He transformed, performed a rapid summersault over the stand, went back to vehicle mode, and drove on before anyone could so much as blink. One driver was so distracted by the sight of an ordinary police motorcycle turning into an alien, he almost hit the car in front of him. Horns honked from the near accident. Seeing by sensor scan that no one was hurt, the Autobot didn't look back.

"Well," Optimus prompted after a moment. When the ninja didn't immediately answer, he decided to offer his own opinion on the matter. "If the organics are still behind bars, I don't see what we have to worry about."

"Prime? I believe you are forgetting the fifth accomplice in their criminal enterprises," Prowl tactfully reminded. Silence reigned over the com-line. "He had purple optics," he hinted.

"Oh, no," the Semi-truck groaned. "Swindle! I thought the police dismantled him!"

"The organics thought so as well." Prowl slowed on a busy city street to consider a nearby, parked car. Prowls holographic driver, which was a cop, studied the gray Sedan suspiciously through dark glasses. Rapid scans revealed that, while it was one of the vehicles auctioned off, it wasn't Cybertronian in nature. "It is only recently that they have discovered he has, in fact, escaped."

"Great! Wonderful," Optimus announced in false good cheer. "Can't the organics do anything right? Ok, I'll send out an alert to the rest of the team to keep on the lookout for a rogue Decepticon." Slowly, he got up. His entire frame ached and he really needed a good solid rest cycle, but that 'Con really had to be apprehended. He gazed longingly at his recharge berth before his resolve hardened. Resting could come later, duty came first. Transforming rapidly into his vehicle mode, a semi-truck that also came with special hoses and nozzles that could be used to fight fires, he raced through the base. As he drove, he continued the conversation. "I'll head out to meet you! He couldn't have gotten far!"

"Actually, sir, he might have," Prowl broke in. "The Organics now believe he might have accidentally been sold in a charity auction."

Slowing to a halt, Optimus felt his spark sinking. "When?"

Ignoring his leaders disheartened tone, he replied, "A week ago." Deciding to take pity on his leader, at least a little, he offered up one reassurance. "It is most likely that he is still paralyzed, or doubtless we would have received reports on his activities by now."

"Or he could be laying low until a ship arrives," Prime answered, taking the negative road.

"Perhaps," the tactician granted. "That thought had also seemed just as likely."

"Any more good news you'd like to report on, Prowl," the semi-truck sarcastically asked.

If a motorcycle could raise an eyebrow, Prowl would have. "Actually…" he began.

"Why do I even bother to ask," his leader sighed.

"They strongly believe," Prowl continued painstakingly, "That he has changed his alt-mode. The only three S.U.V.'s that were auctioned off have already been checked. Here is a list of the remaining vehicles which have not yet been researched, as well as their locations."

A logic cookie containing ninety-six entries scrolled past Prime's optics, and he swore. "But five of these are out of state," he protested.

Unperturbed by the Prime's near whine, the ninja emotionlessly replied, "Yes, Sir. Should I divvy them up?"

Letting out a long sigh, the semi-truck answered, "Yes, Prowl, inform the others. It looks like we're in for a mech-hunt."

"Very good, Sir," the police motorcycle replied, and cut transmission.

Sagging on his tires, the leader of the Autobots took a moment to feel sorry for himself. The job up ahead was as daunting as it was annoying. With a disheartened mental shrug, he put himself in gear and drove. It looked like he had a long drive ahead of him.

Detroit High School, 2:34 in the afternoon…

Swindle onlined to find himself getting jostled. He groaned, opening weary optics. His chronometer informed him that he'd only had seven and a half hours sleep, nowhere near a complete recharge cycle, but eh, at least it was something. Assessing the situation unfolding within his interior, he mused, _Well, it was nice while it lasted._ Cassidy had just jumped into his backseat, a small solid lump of tense muscle. She peered warily up over the edge of his rear door.

"Caaassideee," a familiar voice called.

The brunet crouched down further and became very still.

"Yo, Cass!" Weasel strolled into view. "I need yah to take me to the music store," he announced loudly. The other organics entering the parking lot attempted to ignore him as they claimed their vehicles of choice. "Hey, Jett! Have yah seen Cass around," he asked a nearby jock who was in the process of climbing into his hunter green Toyota. This would normally be a suicidal move on the thief's part, but the athlete was late to a dental exam.

"No," the baseball star snarled. "I have no idea where your little girlfriend went! Now get your hand off me!" He jerked away as if Weasel carried some incurable disease, and climbed into the truck. In seconds, he'd driven away.

Weasel's mouth had dropped open. "We are not dating! YUCK, you people are sick! She's like a sister to me, end of story!" The blond performed a full body shudder to get rid of the idea. "Great," he muttered, clutching his head, "Now I've got images! Sick bastard!" He scowled in the direction the jock had gone, before focusing back on his problem. Namely, bumming a ride.

Cassidy's reaction had been similar. She'd pantomimed gagging so convincingly that for a moment the 'Con feared she really was going to purge her systems. She dropped the act, at the first sound of sneakers on tarmac. As the sound grew closer she pressed deeper into Swindle's back seat, careful of approaching shadows.

"Now let's see," the scrawny freshman mumbled as he reviewed the gang's favorite hiding places. "I've checked the catwalks in the theater building, and behind the government teacher's desk. Then there are the bushes next to the Home-Ec room, and the roof above 's classroom. Huh," he finished with a hapless shrug. "She's just not in any of the usual spots. I really wish Griff hadn't ratted me out. We could have been there by now!" Still mumbling to himself, the blond came closer. Cassidy held her breath.

Never in his wildest dreams had Swindle ever suspected this would happen to him. He blinked at the sensation of the small organic hiding in his back seat. It was cute in an alien sort of way, like those nature vids he occasionally watched when he wanted to relax. In fact, now that he thought of it, this might fetch a pretty penny from any number of scientists. Immediately, he sectioned off this portion of his memory files and made a duplicate, then went back to recording.

Swindle zoomed in close just as Weasel wiped his nose on his sleeve. _Day 48 of my venture into the alien wilds of the planet known as Earth_, he began dramatically. _Here, we see an example of the species called…_ He paused a moment, trying to come up with a suitable scientific name. _Hairless Earth Monkeys! As you can see, they are a foolishly trusting group of animals. I have been able to get close, and even been an unwilling participant in their herds._

Weasel noticed his shoe was untied, and bent to fix it.

Swindle refocused his sensors. _This specimen, whom I have named 'Gridline' for the geometric pattern of its skin, is somewhat rare. Its head plumes are golden… Previous observations indicate that this trait is strictly female, yet this one might be male. Only time will tell if the subject is indeed masculine or not._ He switched his optical focus to his interior and gave Cassidy a close look. _The other subject, a femme I have named 'Twitch,' due to her overly nervous behavior, is currently hiding within my alt-mode. The two of them, while highly immature, are displaying an imitation of the adult's mating dance._

Sighing, the blond shoved his hands into his pockets. "Oh, well," he decided out loud. "Guess I'll just wait here until she shows up." With that, he began an extremely off-key rendition of '99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.'

The human in his back seat widened her brown eyes in shock, before beginning a quiet string of curses. She'd thought for sure that the Torture Car was the perfect hiding place. Weaz would never look for her here! Well, she'd been right, but unfortunately, she'd forgotten his talents as a professional pain. Cassidy dropped her face into her hands; he'd only reached number 78 of that tired old classic. "Terrific, now I'm gonna have to deal with the one song that is always guaranteed to get stuck in my head," she softly groused. "What a perfect ending for a Monday!"

_Their chattering, though mostly mindless, changes in tone depending upon the circumstances their limited minds encounter_, the huckster continued. _Gridline had just begun a mating call! Obviously it is less than effective on the females of the species._ Swindle scoped out a grimacing Cassidy, who had her hands over her ears. _Once she reaches spawning age, perhaps she will reciprocate._

At that moment the teenager flopped down lazily on Swindle's hood, draping his unwashed lucky flannel jacket directly over the Decepticon's main air intake. The first whiff made Swindle's optics water. The second made him want to purge. _Ugh_, the Mitsubishi grunted, stopping the film. _Does he ever bathe?_ He tried holding his breath. That didn't help. Now he held the germ-laden air inside, which could cause an allergy. Swindle choked out a gasp and set up some cursing of his own. _That's it_, he growled. _This means war!_ With evil intent at work in his processor, the alien began prepping a program his HUD had informed him was now fully functional.

Little Miss Nulte was about to go out of her mind. She'd tried covering her ears, but it hadn't helped. Now, she just gripped her curly head in mounting frustration. 'Why can't yah pick a tune with more than one refrain,' she wanted to yell. 'Not a stupid one that a toddler could master!' She hated to admit it, but she just might have to give in and show herself. A lengthy, potentially deadly car drive might be worth risking if she could just shut off Weasel's noisemaker. Swallowing, and hating herself for the weakness, she slowly sat up. That is when a truly miraculous event happened: the car alarm went off. This wasn't an ordinary one, though. Most alarms didn't have the potential to wake the dead three dimensions over!

At the first electronic howl, a zap of electricity ran along the Mitsubishi's frame making Weasel leap off the hood like a startled jackrabbit. Swindle couldn't help his snickering, as he watched the blond dance around looking for an off switch. Speakers continued to whoop and lights flashed in a blinding array of colors. The organic scratched the back of his head and offered a sheepish smile to the few humans still left in the parking lot. A campus cop coming into the picture was merely icing on the energon cake. No amount of excuses could make old McElroy believe a word Weasel said. At last the teenager admitted defeat, slung his lucky coat over his shoulder, and left to find somebody else to bum a ride off of. Other humans, not wanting to be around the exotically loud car alarm, had also quickly left. Detecting that there were no more aliens around its outer perimeter, the alarm obediently shut itself off.

As the first siren-like wail pierced the air, the undersized teenager dropped out of sight. This is where she remained until long after it was over. At last silence reigned, yet Cassidy was still reluctant to move. 'What if I set it off again,' she wondered from her crouched position on the car floor. She did know a guy who regularly disabled these things as a part of his job; he might do it if she asked nicely. The girl scowled, 'And yet, I hate owing favors.' At last deciding to chance it, she cautiously started to climb to her feet, only to stop when her hand brushed against something. Her forehead wrinkled as she peered closer. A gold chain… what was that doing under the back seat? Ducking down, she tried to see where it led, but the space was two cramped and dark to get a proper look.

Taking his first deep breath in what felt like hours, Swindle began the process of replacing internal gasses. He didn't need to breathe the same way organics needed it, but air went a long way toward cooling overheated systems. In relief, he felt his fuel pump start to cool off from the beginning stages of barbeque it was experiencing. It wasn't life threatening, but it was fragging irritating to his internals. _Man, am I happy to see that fleshy leave_, the 'Con reflected, only to freeze. He'd just felt something in his interior get tugged… something vulnerable.

When the chain didn't immediately come loose, the brunet pulled harder. What was it? Was it something Weasel had dropped? A pull chain that made the car say 'Mamma,' what? Hopping up to the seat above her for better leverage, she jerked with all her strength. Cassidy was feeling oddly determined at this task, or maybe she just wanted to avoid doing her biology homework.

_OW, OW, ooooh-Hoo-hoo, YOUCH! Stop that you insane alien_, Swindle silently yowled. A particularly harsh wrench made him jump. He wasn't sure about what she was up to, but there was a reason why those particular parts were in such an out of reach area of his alt-mode. Shuddering, he felt a delicate gear twist from her 'gentle' ministrations. _Owww_, the mech groaned in silent agony. Of coarse, she couldn't hear him. Another yank tore at something he'd rather not name. _Careful you little_, cleaning fluid streamed from his wipers. _Oh that'll leave a mark!_ _What I wouldn't give for two functional servos!_ With a final wrench that made Swindle wonder if he'd ever have full use of that area ever again, she jerked the chain free.

It was with a feeling of mild disappointment that Cassidy at last viewed her prize. A pocket-watch dangled before her eyes, one of those fancy ones on the end of a chain. She stared at it puzzled, before her training took over. Immediately searching for a copyright date and logo, she didn't at first locate it. There were none on the back, but on the rim? At last she found it pressed into the metal close to where the chain met the fastener. "Tiffany's? Nice," the teenager whispered.

Still, the question remained, how did it wind up here? Experimentally, she tossed it into the air to determine its weight. It was a cinch that nobody she knew owned a watch like this. Therefore, that left the previous owner of the Torture Car as the remaining culprit. Pictures ran through her mind of who it could be, and she felt that niggling curiosity stir to life once more. This was like what those Victorian Goths from her school wore, or maybe one of those Swinger wannabes that were always exaggerating her accent. She bit her lip, considering what to do next.

Meanwhile, at the first flash of afternoon sunshine off of burnished gold, the Decepticon quickly got over his wounded dignity. _I still have the timepiece_, his stunned computerized brain wondered. He'd thought it had been confiscated. The primitive watch was unique because, like himself, it was more than it seemed. In fact, it was the very weapon that got him stuck in this mess to begin with. He cringed when the fleshy experimentally tossed it up and down like a baseball.

A stray energy bolt immediately shot out and zapped a passing car. Instantly, it's engine ground to a halt, much to the surprise of the owner. He'd only bought it yesterday. Cassidy didn't notice, too intent on estimating its weight to pay attention to weird alien lights.

Swindle's sensors were glued to that Earth-made find. _Please leave it_, he mentally begged. _That's due to a customer with an extremely short temper._ He watched her examine it so thoroughly that it reminded him disturbingly of himself. _Or barring that,_ he amended, _keep it! It's pretty and shiny. Organics love shiny things_, he silently encouraged.

Reaching a decision, she crawled forward, negligently tossing the trinket into the front passenger seat as she went. Another bolt of destruction rocketed out, this time through the windshield and out into space. A passing satellite orbiting the Earth had abrupt mechanical difficulties, killing television programming for three stations. Cassidy was too intent on psyching herself up for another dreaded journey by death-mobile to notice. At last, she turned the key.

Against his will, his engine purred to life, and they cruised out of the parking lot. Briefly, he held out hope for the same terrible traffic conditions from this morning. Sadly, this wasn't the case. Most of the teenagers had vacated the area, leaving nothing but golf cart grannies in the roadways. _It sort of helps that the femme drives as slowly as her wrinkled elders_, Swindle groused. _Please! I'm a sedate driver by Cybertronian standards, but she is unbelievably slow. Where in the world is she taking me?_

Normally, she walked to this section of town. Trash and filth littered the streets; bars adorned every window. Considering the neighborhood, Cassidy stuffed the pocket-watch into her back pocket before climbing out, and locking all doors securely. Looking up at the concrete jungle she had to navigate, she sighed, before resolutely setting out.

Transfixed and fighting every frozen gear, he watched her stroll casually out of sight. Straining on his tires and extending his sensors to their maximum range, Swindle tracked the fleshy for as long as he was able. Too soon, she was gone, and he was out of luck. The trades-mech slumped dejectedly on his tires, his processor going a mile a minute. Aside from the intrinsic value of the Allspark infused pocket-watch, Swindle had a very special reason for wanting to hold on to it. Namely, the mech who'd paid him one thousand and forty-five credits for that little bauble. He wasn't going to be very happy with the huckster, not happy at all.

**Author's Note:** _For those of you who don't know, a 'McGuffin' is slang for that all important object that everybody wants, good guys and bad guys alike, in a story. A good example is the Maltese Falcon from the movie with by that same name. I'm telling you this because it is one of my Pop's favorite words, and I felt it really fit for this chapter._


	7. Chapter 7

**Confidence Game**

**Chapter 7: Gym Rat**

**By: Mooncrossed**

_**Hey, guys! Sorry about the long wait. I hope you enjoy the next chapter. As always, I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, Cool J, or Fitness Guru. I'm just borrowing them for a non-profit-making story. Now, on with the show!**_

* * *

**The Mitsubishi was brooding. That was the only way to describe it. Swindle had spent a fruitless fifteen minute drive trying to apply breaks, talk, anything! He could speak now, at least he thought so. Unfortunately, it was such a low, painfully hoarse sound that his own engine drowned out every word. Slag. Now he was parked off-kilter in front of the Nulte family residence, most likely for the rest of the day. If he could only find some way to get that pocket watch back, he'd be on easy street again.**

**Currently, his options were…**

**A: Get out of town. (Being unable to move killed that option.)**

**B: Refund the dissatisfied customer. (Considering that the customer was Megatron meant he would be extremely fragged off. He'd have to offer excess compensations in the form of free weapons to placate the old terrorist, something the sales-mech hated to do.)**

**Or option C: Find the paralyzing weapon. (Again, impossible, considering he was incapable of movement.)**

**Loudly approaching police sirens jarred him from his thoughts and he scanned the area hurriedly. Of all the things Swindle didn't want to deal with right now, cops were right around the top of that list. The fact that most of the Autobots had taken law enforcement alt-modes was also a factor. Thanks to weakened status, nothing showed up on his scanners yet. Bringing up a list of available systems, the 'Con shuddered. It would be laughably easy for the boys in red to take him. That's when a small organic nuisance fluttered down out of it's favorite tree, and landed on Swindle's hood ornament with a final electronic sounding whoop.**

**Powering down from his high alert status, the Decepticon glared at the mockingbird on his nose. Fluffing up it's feathers contentedly, it stared back. **_**You're just a step away from getting charbroiled, you annoying, Unicron spawned, imitation of a seeker! **_**The bird cocked it's head at the barely audible whispers before deciding to ignore him. Swindle watched contemptuously as the bird began to industriously clean it's feathers. Idly, the 'Con accessed his systems to see what was available for use. He could theoretically extend a small blaster from the center of his hood, the only drawback was the amount of time it would require to be assembled. **

**He was just debating on the merits of activating one of his more minor weapons for a little fumigation service (and how best to hide the evidence afterward), when a new player entered the scene. Small organic paws, leaving oily little footprints, walked a meandering path from his aft, up his rear window, and along his car roof. **_**Not you, too**_**, Swindle moaned. The cat paused a moment to stretch, extending ticklish organic claws along his armor. Even though he couldn't see the animal, he'd still bet five cubes of energon that it was that same annoying cat from yesterday! Kali flexed her whiskers at the odd buzzing sensation of getting scanned before settling down to bathe a paw. Swindle scowled at the results. **_**Yes, it's the same animal, and what's more, **__**SHE'S**__** PREGNANT! Just what I need, four more of those things running around!**_

**Something wet and sliding on his front grill reminded him of the other problem on his hood ornament. **_**Yick! Why me**_**, the Decepticon moaned as he felt organic lubricant dribble around his intakes. "Meow," the bird warbled back, cocking it's head. He was about to blast the stupid thing and slag getting caught, when something else captured his attention. Sensors abruptly pinged indicating: 'A nearby creature was experiencing heightened blood-pressure, an increase in adrenaline, a much higher reading of-' Swindle shut off his scanner with a snort. **

**So the cat was excited about something, who cared? A steady soft rumbling vibrated through his armor, not unlike the purr of a motorcycle and feline talons tickle along his roof again. The animal had crept near the seam at the top of his windshield. In fact, if he aimed his sensors just right… he craned up. Kali was crouched, her face just above her paws, and her eyes dilated to pitch black, staring fixedly at something. Following the line of sight, he saw it was focused on the still oblivious bird. Something was niggling at his processor as he observed this combination of events. The cat licked her lips.**

**Bringing up the information he'd downloaded earlier on housecats, he skimmed the article. She was now almost completely still, with only the very tip of it's ridiculously soft tail flicking his armor. The mockingbird rocked a little and began echoing the sound of a rusted gate opening and closing. It took four more pages of idle scanning before he found it, and fought to contain his laughter. Felines found birds to be a viable food source! Granted it would be to supply energy toward four more of the little glitches, but Swindle could forgive the waste. Off-lining a mockingbird before it could aid in another sleepless night was a very good cause. Kali narrowed her jade green eyes and he felt her wriggle in anticipation. **_**Hopefully**_**, the huckster mused, **_**she'll get run down by a passing truck before her offspring are due to arrive.**_

**Seeming to sense something was wrong, the bird tensed, it's bare feet tightening on his hood emblem. Swindle held his intakes. That was when raised voices disrupted the entire operation. The huckster cursed long and exotically as both bird and cat took off in opposite directions. With a frustrated sigh, he glared at the approaching organic in the hot purple jogging suit. "****Fitness Guru: The Ultimate Workout****," was displayed in metallic gold across the front. "I can't believe you'd do that," she exclaimed, slamming out the front door of the Nulte residence. Dropping her duffle bag to the sidewalk, the girl removed a brush and began swiping her hair with vigorous abandon. It took several seconds for him to realize that this was in fact, Cassidy. She grasped her curly mane harshly in one fist and wrapped a matching purple hair tie at the base of it, turning it into a ponytail. **

"**I didn't know it was that important to you, Sweetie," Gina answered in that soothing calm way of hers. "Besides, I'm sure the boys will bring your bike back safe."**

"**Ma, this is Weasel's ****twin brothers**** that we're talking about," she reminded the older woman. "You know, the one's that love explosives? I'll be lucky to get the helmet returned!"**

"**I'm sorry, Cassidy," her mother forlornly apologized. "I thought you wouldn't mind, but at least you still have the car."**

**The brunet paused right where she was in the midst of putting away her hairbrush and slowly looked up. Her mother suddenly appeared to look just a tad too innocent. "This is a setup, isn't it? I can't believe it! My own mother manipulating me into driving-" She broke off when the much taller woman tackled her in a bear hug.**

"**You'll get through this experience dear, I ****know**** it," she exclaimed, her daughter gagging from a lack of air. "You don't have to be afraid because," here her mother tightened even further. Cassidy choked loudly and began scrabbling. "****God will protect you****!!!" She abruptly dropped the half suffocated seventeen year old and jogged back up the sidewalk with athletic ease. "I'll pray for your safe return, so don't worry! I love youuu!" The door slamming shut punctuated her last sentence. **

**Panting, Cassidy stared at the closed front door in disbelief. Slowly, she stood up from the crouched defensive position she'd been in, and shook her head. "Is it any surprise she was raised by lawyers," she wondered out loud. The girl looked at the parked Mitsubishi and swallowed. **

**Swindle watched as she began pacing, back and forth, back and forth. She paused a moment to consider him, her heart hammering, then went back to the previous activity. After a moment, she began mumbling to herself. "Ok. It's just a car. I've faced way worse in my life. A trip to work is nothing!" Stopping momentarily, she stared at him again. "OH GOD! I'M GONNA DIE!" Cassidy threw her hands up, rather melodramatically, in Swindle's opinion, before convulsively hugging herself.**

**With a mixture of amusement and trepidation, Swindle watched the fleshies slowly growing panic attack. **_**Primus, if she acts like this for my alt-mode, I wonder what she'd do if I transformed**_**? Watching her transfer her fear to her scalp for a few brief minutes, in the form of raking nails, he decided, **_**It's probably better if I never find out.**_

"**Maybe I could walk to work; it's not that far!" She smiled brightly at this easy solution before a frown sagged her features. "But I don't have enough time," she moaned. Grumbling to herself about freeloading blonds delaying her, she kicked her camouflage patterned duffle bag in frustration. "Or, maybe I could run?"**

**Optical sensors focused skyward as this latest plan was also scrapped. **_**Oh, brother, just get in**_**, he silently groaned. **_**At this rate, you're going to wear a trench in the sidewalk. This got old thirteen minutes ago! **_**The girl, unfortunately, had given up on her plans of car-avoidance, and was now circling around him as if he were a coiled snake. **_**Hah, I wish**_**, the transformer huffed morosely. So far, he only had one lousy gun to his name, and it could barely assemble itself within an hour. **_**I'd be lucky if I could take out a sleeping target! **_

**Hesitantly, she touched his driver's side door, before shivering nervously. Her sweaty hands fumbled the keys. At last, in a state of jerky impatience, she unlocked his door… and just stood there. It took a sudden surprise car alarm bird call from everyone's favorite mockingbird to put Cassidy in gear. Letting out a surprised shout, she dove into his front seat like a soldier into a foxhole! Blinking, she slowly sat up and gripped the steering wheel convulsively. "It's just a car," the girl mumbled to herself as she slowly removed the strap of her bag an placed it in the passenger seat. Then she took several deep breaths. "Ok, I can do this!" She turned the key. Then, in the biggest gamble of her life, she drove the Mitsubishi without any outside supervision.**

**At first, Swindle was tense. Considering all his previous experiences when this ****particular**** organic was controlling him, it was justified. Still, nothing happened. Block number one was as easy as pi. Cassidy still chose to drive five miles below the speed limit, which was surprisingly alright in the huckster's estimation. Anything that avoided a violent offlining was a bonus. They got past a second block, before reaching a red light. She coasted to a gradual halt without making any mistakes. There were very few vehicles on the road at the moment, since nearly everyone was still at work. The Decepticon gradually relaxed and dared to think there wouldn't be any problems after all. In retrospect he'd later conclude, **_**I really need to stop testing fate like that**_**.**

**His first clue that something was wrong was the accelerated heart rate. This was followed by a gradual stiffening of the organic in his driver's seat. When the femme's core temperature dropped noticeably, Swindle switched to an interior view. Don't get him wrong, he didn't care one iota for her personal safety, it was the possibility of crashing that had him worried. Her face had lost any and all color, her eyes were wide and flickering from here to there rapidly.**

**It was only then that he registered what his CPU had been warning him about for the past five minutes: sirens. Gradually the sound grew louder, and the 'Con did as rapid a scan as his conditions allowed. An object with a similar mass to himself was coming in fast, roughly the same size, two organics on board… probably a police car. Once he'd established that it wasn't an Autobot, he shut off his sensors. Organic fingers tightened on his steering wheel to the point of creaking the material. The brunet was now panting in short shallow bursts. **

**As the sound grew louder, the human became worse. Swindle switched focus to the roadway and jerked his seatbelts in alarm. There was a curve in the road up ahead, with a lineup of fifteen cars in a traffic jam. **_**Turn! TURN!!! **__**WHY AREN'T YOU TURNING?!?!**_** One wild look at the ashen-faced catatonic teenager told him why. The con-mech swore and strained as hard as he could. At this point, the traffic-jam were just barely beginning to move. He'd been properly programmed, he knew the age old math problem. If one Bot traveling at five mph encounters another going thirty-five mph, how horrific will the accident be? By now, he was panting with exertion… and was it his imagination, or did his wheel turn slightly? **

**Using every ounce of effort Swindle possessed, he did it! Hydraulics straining, wiper fluid spurting out, and cuss words wheezing from drowned out speakers, he made it around the corner. Against all odds, he'd missed every single one of those slagging drone vehicles. He released the air he was holding in his intakes with a warm whoosh from his internal vents. **_**That was too close! And the organic is waking up again**_**, the huckster praised in harsh sarcasm. **_**Good for her! **_**Unsympathetic optics watched the girl shake herself, as if from some horrible nightmare and take control. **_**Oh good, the little nut job is doing something intelligent for once**_**, he exclaimed as they slowly coasted to the side of the road. **

**Cassidy put the car into park with shaking fingers and turned off his engine, before scooting back as far as the seat allowed. **_**Terrific**_**, he groused. **_**I've blown my cover**_**. He looked, yet again, at the dismal state his weapon's systems were in, and wondered what he could do? It was a cinch he couldn't talk his way out of this, and his reaction times and movements were a joke. Hastily he began formulating plans, as those sirens continued to grow in volume.**

**Only when the police car came into view, did she move. Now, he was prepared for an escape attempt, or at least a little disbelief and yelling. So Swindle was very surprised when the organic scrunched herself into a shivering ball of flesh in his drivers seat. He switched to the outside. Red and blue lights flashed as the vehicle zoomed closer. Going back to an internal view, the 'Con-mech blinked his optics. Cassidy had raised shaking hands to her audios (**_**Ears**_**, he belatedly corrected himself), and stayed there cringing. Saline solutions drifted slowly from her squeezed shut eyes. The cruiser raced by, intent on whatever it was after.**

**They stayed like that for several long minutes. Swindle sat silently, with curiosity gnawing at his processor. What could possibly disturb the fleshy ****that much**** about a police car? Or more specifically, it's siren? It wasn't the car itself; he'd seen her strut by the black and white drones effortlessly at the high school. Excitement was also weighed heavily on his spark. He had single-handedly taken control of himself! Granted it was only a few inches of steering wheel, and it had felt like he was trying to push a planet, but still… He had moved!**

**She sat there, a small cringing form in his driver's seat, her brown eyes glazed over. Dimly, the wail of sirens still echoed in the distance. When she raised a hand, the feel of wetness on her face was a complete surprise. Fiercely, she swiped at her tears, or sweat, she wasn't sure which. "Stupid," she muttered, equal parts ashamed and nervous. Cautiously, she peered back. The curving road stretched out behind her, now devoid of drivers. Facing forward again, she took a deep breath and coached herself, "C'mon girl, get it together."**

**Decepticon sensors studied Cassidy as she rhythmically breathed in more air. She eyed his ignition. Reflexively, she checked her watch and grimaced. Swindle could very well guess at the reason. Either she was late, or she was about to be. Even if he didn't know the species very well, he did know business, and an employer would be less than please by a tardy slip. Still, she hesitated.**

**Considering his key again, which was still lodged in his steering column, she then gazed longingly at the sidewalk they were parked next to. **_**Oh, no**_**, the Decepticon declared, glaring at the femme. **_**I don't care how frightening your lack of driving talents are or how scary I look to you! If you ditch me on this stretch of road, I'm running you down the first chance I get!**_** Whether it was the results of divine intervention or the working of an extremely reluctant conscience, she finally reached out and turned the key. Starting him up, she drove. The rest of the ride was uneventful. He only had to correct slightly when she flinched at the sound of another siren several miles away. **_**Good hearing**_**, he mused as they pulled into a parking spot on the edge of a strip mall.**

**In seconds, she had Swindle's gear shift in park, the key shut off, and the parking break on. The brunet dug into her duffle bag, searching around for something… At last she found it. Cranking his rear-view mirror at a painfully unnatural angle, she began primping. Swindle winced through the removal of tearstains, he groaned through the application of powder, and he cursed as she applied a final dab of lipstick. He was cramping up!!! **_**Slagging femme! There is a **__**mirror**__** on the touch-up box! Use it, instead!**_** She started to put the small plastic container back in the bag, then thought better of it. Unlocking his glove box, she tossed it inside, unknowing of the fact that the lid on the powder portion had come undone. **

**Leaping wildly from the car, she sprinted toward her job, only to skid to a halt and race right back. **_**That's right**_**, he reminded her with a sarcastically sweet voice. **_**You forgot something, didn't you?**_** Crawling partway into the driver's side, she lugged out her duffle bag, only to have most of the contents spill out of one side all over the asphalt. Dropping to her knees and cursing, she began gathering up the mess around his tires, only to pause as she came across the last item, a bar of soap. She glanced up at the Mitsubishi, a wicked smile slowly creeping along her features. Swindle stared back in growing worry. The only time he'd ever seen that kind of expression was in the mirror. Standing up, she slammed his door closed, but didn't bother to lock it. He blinked, wondering what she was up to.**

**Hefting her bag, she made an overly casual stroll around his hood. As she walked, the small block of material was carefully unwrapped. Swindle didn't know what it was, but it couldn't be good. He was right. **_**Ewww**_**, was the yelled exclamation as the oily bar was smeared across his front window. Sensory data immediately scrolled across his field of vision: sodium cocoate, water, glycerin, hydrogenated tallow acid… With each added ingredient the Decepticon grew angrier, until his interior could have doubled as a sauna. Cassidy stepped back to admire her handiwork. Scrawled in nice neat letters over the car windshield were two words: STEAL ME!!! Satisfied, she dropped the soap back into her duffle and headed into work. She was late, but since it was the first time, she figured she could get away with it. Considering the neighborhood the gym was located in, she was sure to be happily car-free in under an hour. **

**So there the Mitsubishi sat, with a growing cramp in his rearview mirror, human touchup paint dribbling into his internals, his door unlocked, ****and**** the Cybertronian version of a 'kick-me' sign on his window. The almost frozen Decepticon could do no more than softly moan, **_**Why me, Primus? Why me? **_**He felt like he was back in basic training in the Decepticon army! **_**I should be exempt from these sorts of pranks by now**_**, he tried to reason with whatever deity was picking on him. **_**I'm well past my youngling years! Honest!**_

**A blast of deafening rock music caused him to look up in annoyance. Cassidy had just ducked into a small business with huge windows and the words '****FITNESS GURU'S****,' printed up above. Re-adjusting his sensors, the 'Con peered through the tinted glass at the brat responsible for his predicament. He watched her demeanor do a rapid transformation from cocky and street smart, to humble and timid. 'FEEL SORRY FOR ME,' her expression seemed to scream. **_**The older woman frowning at her must obviously be her boss**_**, he mused. **_**There's no way anybody would fall for that… SHE FELL FOR IT?!?! **_**In disbelief, he saw the girl get a conciliatory pat on the head, before she was shooed off to the computer to check in. **_**Unbelievable! Is there no justice on this planet?!?!**_

**When the computer suffered a system-wide crash under her fingertips, the 'Con was only marginally placated. If he could have, he would have rolled his optics. **_**Primitive technology**_**, he snorted derisively, thankful his systems were far beyond what humans produced. Immediate apologies were express, the teenager genuinely looking embarrassed. Sighing, the woman nodded for her to head out to work with the customers. He'd already read everything he wanted to know about '****Fitness Guru's****.' **_**So organics needed exercise to keep their fleshy bodies from deteriorating. What did he care?**_** It just made him all the happier he was created Cybertronian. Right now, he had bigger problems, like the organic that was slowly approaching him holding a suspicious looking bag. **

**Calculating sensors studied the male suspiciously. The human was rather scruffy in a deliberate sort of way. He recognized cuts and tears in his clothes that were too evenly spaced to be accidental. 'Cool-Jay's Restaurant,' was scrolled on the faded cloth on the man's chest. The organic glanced around, stroking his three toned goatee, before crouching down. When the organic opened the satchel to reveal a crowbar, several bits of wire, and some primitive electronic devices, Swindle began digging into his systems. According to his HUD, his belts were in fine working order, as was his alarm. Too bad he couldn't move his doors or access his locks. **_**Come, on! There's got to be something I can do to send this guy packing! Slagging femme! Ought to tattoo "Steal Me!!!," to her forehead and see how she likes it!**_** Grimy fingers touching his door handle jarred him from his plotted revenge. He held his intakes. His drivers side door swung open.**

'**Cool-Jay' climbed in, flopping down in the cushy front seat. Swindle watched the organic eye his interior with an expression of bland disinterest. The Mitsubishi waited. At last, the fleshling must have finished looking over his interior, because he reached out and pulled the door closed. That's when the Decepticon struck. With snake-like strength, the seatbelt slid out and strapped the organic down securely. "What the-," he exclaimed, grabbing the buckle that suddenly refused to release. Darkness swathed the interior as every window tinted to black. Wildly, the carjacker looked around. "HEY? WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA, MAN?" His words choked off as the belt tightened with punishing force. Slowly, one light glowed to life in the center of the console, a blood-red one. The struggling human was now sobbing with fright. Pressure built up in the air, enough to make his ears pop. Two harshly whispered words hissed all around him, **_**"Geeeet ouuut…"**_

**The organic was out the door so fast Swindle could have sworn he'd flown. Watching the carjacker race away, screaming something about demons only made him laugh harder. **_**That**_**, he wheezed, **_**was just beautiful! Definitely an experience worth relating to the other mechs when I have a little down-time! Whoo! **_**He swiped his windshield wipers to get rid of the liquid that had streamed down from his laugh attack. **_**Too bad the organic hadn't bothered to close the door when he'd left**_**, Swindle mused. **_**It was downright rude of him! Oh, well.**_** Something about what the man had shouted as he left gave him a few ideas. **_**But he left before I could test them out**_**, he pouted to himself. Another organic intently approaching him from the opposite direction caused him to immediately brighten in anticipation. **_**Never-mind! **_

**This next human who approached was more neatly dressed; his shirt was tucked in and his hair contained no unnatural chemicals. Swindle wasn't fooled, however. He knew body-language, and the greed pouring off this one was more than obvious. Light glinted off Swindle's rims in anticipation. **_**Bring it on, pal! I dare you!**_** Glancing around nervously, he dithered on the sidewalk. Organic feet took a step toward the innocently waiting Mitsubishi. Light reflected off the 'Con's rims enticingly. At last the man's greed overcame his fear, because he strode across the parkway and climbed in. The human took a moment to admire his steering wheel cover and stroke his dashboard. Noticing the harshly tilted rearview mirror, he corrected it. As relief of alleviated joints flooded his systems, the Mitsubishi decided against killing this one. After all, one good deed deserved another! **

**Nothing interesting happened until the door was closed. He convulsively gripped the steering wheel when the entire car began shaking as if it was in an earthquake. "HOW," he shouted in alarm. Deafeningly sudden, the car's radio flicked on, "Countdown to launch in ten, nine, eight, seven-" The organic was gone as fast as his fancy loafers could carry him. Swindle indulged in another barely audible laughing jag. **_**Serves you right, you armature**_**, the con-mech yelled through non-working vocals. Beaming to himself, Swindle began plotting out the next theatrical performance for whoever was dumb enough to take him on. **_**This species is sure entertaining, and dare I say it, I'm even having fun!**_

**12.7 minutes later the next one to appeared, this one a femme chewing bubblegum. She slowed down for half a step before strolling confidently up to his open door. With cat-like grace, the leather wearing teenager slid in, but didn't bother to shut the door. Swindle watched her intently. **_**The femme seems to be interested in my radio more than anything else**_**, he concluded after a moment. Glancing up to make sure there weren't any witnesses, she cracked her gum noisily. After another moment of studying his console, she muttered, "Why not," and dug out her switchblade. That was when she found herself getting launched into the air as if from a cannon. **

**Retracting his driver's seat back to it's locked position, he closed the hidden door in his roof. Swindle's mood overly thoughtful. His HUD had informed him that the ejection seats were finally ready for use… but he was disappointed with the overall performance. They were supposed to send a passenger forty-three feet into the air, yet his calculations told him she had only gone thirty-nine. **_**Gonna have to fix that**_**, he mused as he sectioned off the programming attached to it. He'd repair it when he was back to full power. A scream broken by a muffled crash from the nearby dumpster. **_**But I did hit the target I was aiming for**_**, he beamed. **_**Am I talented or what?**_

* * *

_**Meanwhile…**_

**Cassidy stiffened as something that sounded like a scream barely made it over the loudspeakers. Turning, she just missed seeing the spectacle of an airborne punk-rocker getting dunked into a dumpster. Instead, everything seemed to be completely normal, just an average parking lot with about thirty cars to its name. A slight smile quirked up. Hopefully, by the end of the workday, it would have one less. Clanging equipment from behind was her only warning. Spinning rapidly, she just barely caught the falling metal weight rack before it could bury her.**

"**Oops," exclaimed a voice. "I'm sorry little lady, I thought it was bolted down!" The little old man looked on anxiously, clinging to his exercise towel and cane.**

"**Oh, that's alright," Cassidy grunted. She pushed against the unwieldy stand, and readjusted her stance. Slowly, it creaked back up.**

"**I still feel bad about it," the man quavered on. "Even if I was just stretching. You know, these muscles won't make themselves!" He proudly lifted up one thin, pasty white arm, and smiled.**

"**Uh, huh," Cassidy grimaced back. She almost had it back to a vertical position… Her eyes bugged out when fifteen dumbbells all decided to shift toward her. Finding herself yet again sinking slowly, she glanced around for help, any help! The senior citizen? One glance at the brace on his knee and the senile expression on his face, ruled him out. What about the manager? No, she was on the phone. That just left… "KORINA," she yelled in playful sounding panic. After all, there was no need to worry all the rest of the customers. **

**A mop and cleaning bucket slammed to the floor on the other side of the room, followed by the answer, "WHAT?!?!" Several nearby patrons flinched at the explosion of anger from what everyone had assumed was a docile girl. Fierce brown eyes, a direct gift from India's finest citizens, bestowed a potent glare from the bathrooms.**

**About to be crushed by health equipment, and not entirely liking the idea, Cassidy squeaked, "A little help?"**

**Company sneakers stomped a threatening march her way. "I can't believe this," Korina snarled. "If isn't one thing disrupting my chore's, it's another!" Capable manicured hands grabbed the nearest support bar and easily pulled the unwieldy object off. In seconds the stand was upright and it's contents neatly re-arranged by her coworker according to size and color.**

"**Thanks," Cassidy muttered, brushing herself off.**

**Eyes all around the room squinted in disbelief when Korina's personality did an about face. "Oh, no problem," she giggled. "Hey, be a dear and get me some more water to mop with. I think I accidentally spilled. I'm such a klutz!" She finished with another laugh, this one slightly crazier than the previous one, before skipping off to the front desk.**

**Cassidy didn't even bother to flinch, long used to the other girls mercurial mood swings. She did notice the multiple stares from everyone in the gym. "Um," the tomboy smiled and shrugged. "She's been that way ever since she had the baby."**

"**Ohhh," several exercisers chorused, and instant sympathetic looks followed the Indian girl. **

**The teenager shrugged and headed toward the overturned bucket. Might as well do as she was told before the next inevitable outburst. Only pausing long enough to prop the mop against the wall, she then proceeded to lug the bright red container toward the employee bathroom. It was the only one with a faucet that could accommodate it, provided someone stayed there to keep the bucket properly tilted to catch the spray. A rapidly spun handle and she could be bored from here on out.**

**It was while she was studying the fake flowers in the wall sconce (and trying not to breathe in the lavender scented air fresheners), that she saw it. Her face paled and she staggered away in alarm, sloshing water all over her butt in the process. Even the sensation of icy wetness soaking her underwear was ignored in the face of this new threat. She ducked, barely containing a shriek as the object of her worst fears flew a chaotic path dangerously close to Cassidy's curly hair.**

**Her hands were a blur as she turned off the water. The bucket was only half full. At another low pass by the gym's uninvited guest, she cringed. 'Whatever,' she decided with reckless abandon. 'Considering the circumstances, I've gone above and beyond what's expected of me!' She ducked out the door, sloshing water in her haste to leave. A moment later a small brown hand reached back inside and flicked the lights off, before the door slammed shut to prevent any escape. Despite her hammering heart, she offered a disarming smile to the few customers that had bothered to look her way. Then, making a mental vow to avoid using the bathroom at work ever again, she lugged the bucket away. Inside the small lavatory, a tiny pale gray moth flexed it's fuzzy wings contentedly.**

* * *

_**As carjacker eleven ran screaming into the distance…**_

"_**Hah! Take that, you pathetic little alien**_**," Swindle shouted, rattling his seatbelt buckles in victory. Thick condensation covering his windows was an open testament to the workout he was receiving. Yet only a whisper emerged from his speakers despite his best efforts. Swindle sagged in momentary dissappointment at the reminder of his current paralysis. If he was healthy, he wouldn't have any problem with this lineup of organic refuse assaulting his frame. Just one step, and goodbye human! **_**Then again**_**, he amended, **_**If I was fully functional I wouldn't even be on this planet right now**_**. The blip of two more organics approaching, however, did wonders toward cheering him up. With the blaring glee of an announcer he declared, **_**And our next contestant is…**_

**Salvador, Sal to his friends, slowed down upon sighting the squat, nasty green Mitsubishi Gallant parked up ahead. He grinned, his eyebrow ring glinting in the late afternoon light, before nudging his friend in the ribs. "Hey, Griff, check it out!"**

**The six foot four teenager snorted at the poorly scrawled sign adorning the car up ahead. "Man, not even if they paid me," he answered, adjusting his blue wrap around sunglasses. He was very handsome, with his deep mocha skin and close shaven head, not to mention all the muscles. "Thanks, but I'd rather drive an old ladies golf cart. It's manlier."**

"**Ha, I hear yah," Sal answered, shaking his head. "My reputation would be shot if I tried driving that POS, even if it was stolen." Still talking about the less than ideal qualities of the ****fine**** automobile as they strolled away, they missed the annoyed huff of Cybertronian exhaust. **

_**I am NOT**_**, the huckster declared, glaring after the two brats who were still insulting him. **_**My frame is very attractive, thank you very much. And my paint job is none of your business!**_** He was still grousing about all the comments he'd heard from them and others, when Korina exited the gym lugging a big red bucket of dirty water.**

**Company sneakers staggered under the weight of her large burden, grousing under her breath in Hindi about her annoying coworkers. "Cassidy only filled it halfway, the lazy girl! And she refused to go back into the bathroom. Who cares if there's a moth, it just means more work for me!" Upon seeing the written invitation hastily scrawled across the window of one of the cars, she scowled.**

**Swindle watched the woman in bright purple workout gear glare at him corrosively. Setting down her burden on the sidewalk, she reached inside, then began a purposeful march his way. **_**Does everyone on this world steal**_**, he wondered. **_**This woman is obviously a fellow employee**_**, **_**yet she is heading toward me just like all the others-**_** A dirty sponge rubbing his exterior shocked him into silence. The femme bathed him while continuing to utter dark insults towards the local delinquents and their stupid pranks. **

**With a final splat, she rubbed out the last of the soap writing. "I hope my daughter is never this foolish," Korina muttered at last in English, shaking her head. Turning, she picked up the bucket again, and carried it to the bushes. Once it was empty, her mood seemed to brighten, because she danced her way to the doors. Swindle blinked in surprise. On one servo, he now had filthy water drying on his windshield, while on the other… He decided to amend his decision on permanently downsizing the small business, or at least make sure ****that**** organic was having her day off first.**

**As for the rest of his stay in front of ****Fitness Guru****, it was pretty uneventful. Humans strolling by barely gave him a glance; he got so bored he almost fell into recharge. Considering his previous experiences though, he decided against it. The sun had just drifted past the horizon when a certain curly haired brunet came strolling up. She and Korina were both getting off at the same time, unfortunately. 'But eh, what can I do,' she wondered with a shrug. **

**She was about to ask if she could bum a ride, when she caught sight of her car. Swindle inwardly smiled as her face morphed into extreme dissapointment. **_**That's right, Honey**_**, he mocked back silently speakers. **_**You're 'car' is still right where you left it!**_

**Korina noticed the brunet's dejected walk toward the dull green car and called out, "Oh, is that your car? Some local punks wrote 'STEAL ME!!!' on it, so I washed it off."**

**Cassidy grimaced before affecting a smile. "Thanks a million, Korina!"**

"**YOU'RE ****NOT**** WELCOME," the woman snarled. She finished unlocking her own car, before waving cheerily at Cassidy. "Well, so long! Safe driving!"**

**The brunet waved goodbye at her fellow ****Fitness Guru-ian****, before climbing into the Torture Car. She spent a moment gazing at Swindle's console, a pout on her lips. Finally, she inserted the key and turned the engine. "I thought for sure that would work," she sighed, then shrugged. "Oh, well. Better luck next time!"**

_**NEXT TIME**_**, the Decepticon asked incredulously. With that ominous thought worrying his processor, they began the treacherous journey back to North Vail Avenue.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Confidence Game**

**Chapter 8: Sales Pitch**

**By: Mooncrossed**

_**Hey folks, this update is a little faster than the last one! Hope you enjoy it! My thanks to Mikoto-chan92 for the great review (glad I made you laugh), animaluvr3 (happy you enjoyed it), and Love Psycho (also happy you laughed. Swindle will be free soon, and Cassidy needs all the help she can get!) I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, Jeeps, or **__**The Star Spangled Banner**__**. They belong to the folks that invented them, and I'm not making any profit off of this.**_

* * *

**It was midnight on North Vail Avenue, and Swindle was wide awake. The only thing that made that fact even marginally different from previous nights was that, in this case, the 'Con ****wanted**** to be up. He was well aware that he was now on borrowed time.**

* * *

_**Half an hour earlier…**_

**Swindle checked his repairs again, they were abysmally slow. **_**Oh, come on**_**, he softly complained. **_**Even at my worst I could self-repair in a fraction of this time.**_** If the 'Con had been bi-pedal, he'd have been tapping his claws testily for something to do, or tapping a pede. He'd only been parked for forty three minutes, and he was already bored stiff. Within the two story house next to him, the Nultes appeared to be having a party. Kit had arrived safely and finally felt recovered enough from his jet lag to make a video call to confirm it. **

**Another cheer rose up from around the household computer. Swindle sighed morosely.**_** Man, I wish one of them would drive m-**_** Decepticon headlights flickered in surprised disbelief. **_**Good Primus, I did not just think that!**_** Hoping it was just a passing glitch, he ran a self diagnostic. The results were shocking. He was developing ****empathy**** with his captors! **_**I HAVE TO GET THE FRAG OUT OF HERE!!!**_

* * *

**So here he was, feverishly hatching plan after plan. He'd already pulled as many shortcuts as he dared on his self repair programs, now all that was left was to prepare for every contingency that might come his way. Right now, he was on plan 'R:' **_**What to do if he was discovered by Megatron and Optimus at the same time. **_**Three possible escape routes were mapped out and he was working on a fourth. He tensed as yet another aircraft passed overhead, too high up to get a proper scan on. Several minutes passed in which there were no descending bombs or rapid gunfire, so he went back to his calculations. **

**He did have signal dampeners, but they were meant for deep space only. Since they were not only on the same planet, but within the same city, he was bound to be found out soon. The 'Con-mech ceased all motion as yet another passing flyer raced up above, before a new sound jerked all his wires to panicky tension. A low, growing steadily louder, whistling noise. **_**I'm not ready**_**, Swindle realized. Racing to bring up his contingency plans for if the Decepticon's found him, he accidentally dumped half his files. That's when the bomb the huckster was so certain would blow up him, this neighborhood, and half the city, became replaced with a rousing rendition of the ****Star Spangled Banner****. For a stunned moment, the con-mech stared up at the cheerfully chirping mockingbird who had nearly caused him to have a spark-attack. This was quickly followed by white hot rage and a small magnetic pulse gun raised from the center of his hood, the best solution for handling minor annoyances quietly.**

_**Fifteen minutes later…**_

**An exasperated sigh gusted out of Swindle's vents as his calculations were interrupted yet again. Loud chirping sang overhead… he refused to look up. **_**Plan F Redone: What to do if the human authorities have tracked me down while I'm parked on a city street.**_** One branch of the tree above his roof was a charred mess, the rest of it was fine. A groan softly escaped his vocals when the sound of a cat fight erupted from an avian beak. Needless to say, he'd missed. **_**Frag these slowed down systems**_**, the 'Con groused. The tune above him switched to an old broad-way show tune, and he flicked a glare toward his own personal tormentor. **_**And frag you too, you miserable little playback! Primus, I hope nothing like you is created in my species!**_** He spared a moment to picture a bird, robotic of coarse, with the capacity to record any sound it's sneaky little audios came across, as well as a perverse sense of humor. Shuddering, he went back to work, unaware that someone actually already had; he just hadn't heard about it yet.**

_**Ok, on to Plan G: What to do if I'm found out by a bunch of organic younglings**_**. Granted, the chances of this happening were infinitesimal, but he preferred to cover all bases. He was just fine tuning the appropriate lies for such impressionable young minds when the second interruption of the night occurred. The car down the street was in a fine state this evening. It howled, it shrieked, it blinked it's headlights rapidly to scare away non-existent intruders, it- Any and all sound cut off with a last dying whimper as Swindle efficiently, albeit slowly, tucked away his pulse gun with a sense of satisfaction. **_**Well, I'm a little faster on the draw now! And I **__**might**__** even be able to assemble it for use before fifteen minutes are up!**_** Accessing his systems, he made a short addendum to his schedule to test that later.**

_**There, glad that's taken care of**_**, Swindle mused, turning back to his calculations. Stopping, he looked back up when the front door of the house his target was parked in front of opened. A familiar fleshy wearing a yellow robe staggered out and sleepily fumbled around for his keys. At last, he pressed the appropriate button to turn off an alarm that had long since melted to slag, before turning and stumbling back into his home. He hadn't even noticed the plume of smoke rising up from his vehicles hood. The con-mech blinked, feeling mildly amused at the organics absurdly oblivious attitude, before resuming his work. **

**Disappointed murmurs drifted out of the Nulte, household. Swindle spared a nano-click to investigate, before going back to his plotting. Apparently, the organics computer system had glitched spectacularly, preventing any further conversation with the oldest son, Kit. He fine-tuned his lesser contingency plan for manipulating any Decepticons of a slightly nutty persuasion. There weren't that many of them, but they did exist. With half an audio, he overheard the family retire to opposite sides of the house, the father to the television, the mother to a novel she wanted to read, and the daughter to her room. Nobody appeared to want to drive him, for which he was ****thankful****. With this busy schedule lined up, it was the last thing he needed.**

* * *

_**Cassidy's room, twelve forty-five in the evening.**_

**A knife flew end over end to imbed itself in a three foot wide wooden target. Cass sighed. Her Biology homework needed to be done. With a flick, the second knife met the bulls-eye with a dull 'thunk.' She could bet that the Weisels or one of the Nollin kids were probably out having fun. Normally, she'd be running around with them. Flashing silver, another knife made it's spinning journey across the room. Cassidy sighed, scooping up the last blade. What she really wished was that she wasn't so freaking ****cursed**** around electronics! The final knife hit home so forcefully it sank in up to the hilt. Sighing again, Cassidy rolled out of bed to retrieve them. "Another perfect score," she muttered bitterly as she began yanking them out. "Whoop-ti-doo!" Turning at the sound of a tentative knock, she asked, "Yeah?"**

"**It's me," her mother responded. At the offhand invitation from her daughter, she carefully peered in the room. Just one glance was all it took to confirm it. "Oh, great," Gina murmured knowingly. "The target board." Her daughter only took that out when she was blaming herself for something. She watched the seventeen year old climb back into her favorite cross legged position for sulking, and let the first knife fly. Dark hair drifted as the woman let out a motherly sigh. **

**After another three 'THUNKS,' Cassidy broke the silence. "I hate computers!" THUNK. "They're always fritzing out on me, or dying, or glitching." She broke off her tirade to retrieve her blades again. "All I did was touch the stupid mouse, and bam! Blackout central!" she finished, viciously yanking out one of the deepest hits. She'd been secretly practicing with the heavy hilted weapons since she was seven with her brother. When she turned eleven, her father had caught them poking holes in their grandmother's guest room wall. After the inevitable grounding, the knife throwing wasn't so secret.**

"**Sweetie, it's not your fault," her mother placated, deciding against mentioning her brother's later cell phone call. Apparently, his computer had suffered a similar fate at the same time, no doubt due to a virus. "Our computer is just old," she continued. "I'm sure Weaz will be happy to fix it the next time he drops in." She rolled her eyes as two blades flew out at once with unerring accuracy into the bulls-eye. 'Just as stubborn as her father,' Mrs. Nulte silently chided.**

"**If it has nuts, bolts, or wires, it dies on me," Cassidy mirthlessly laughed. "Good thing I didn't touch the volume knob; I probably would have shorted out the neighborhood." She pitched another throwing knife which missed the center by a fraction of an inch.**

"**Cass, your being too dramatic," the older woman laughed. "Just because a few accidents happen, doesn't mean you're cursed!"**

"**More than a few," was the darkly muttered reply. The last blade in the set sailed through the air to join it's brothers at the worn out center of the target board. Glumly, she climbed out of bed, only to be pulled to a stop.**

**Gina lovingly hugged her daughter in an effort to show that at least one person wasn't out to get her. Adolescent gagging was the predictable result, making the woman smile. Before her little tomboy could dodge it, she planted a swift kiss on the girl's overly curly head. "Get some sleep, dear. I think you'll find that life's not as horrible as you think." Turning, she gracefully sidestepped Cassidy's growing pile of 'Stuff for Charity,' before exiting the way she'd come.**

**The brunet stopped rubbing her head once the door closed. "Mothers," she mumbled, rolling her eyes. Marching across the room she plucked the blades back out, pausing as something caught her eye. One of them needed sharpening. She debated on whether or not she wanted to swipe her pop's wet-stone now or tomorrow, before deciding tonight wasn't the best time to tick him off. He was already pretty upset about the busted computer. Sighing, she went about putting the blades back into their leather holder. "I'll do it after school," she decided. Satisfied with that course of action, she rolled the length of leather up and put it in the closet next to her practice sword. Then she got ready for bed.**

* * *

_**Meanwhile…**_

**Swindle settled back on his tires, at last satisfied. His plans weren't foolproof, no-one's were really, but they would do. He'd run through the entire alphabet twice, with addendums for every possible outcome his processor could concoct. Now, all he wanted was to recharge for the rest of the night. **_**Only two more solar cycles and I can vacate this dumpy little planet. It can launch itself into it's own sun for all I care**_**, he softly groaned, shutting down his optical sensors. **_**In fact, now that I think about it, **_**he realized.**_** My oldest brother once made a mathematical formula that could do exactly that. And it would take a minimum amount of effort, too.**_** Drowsiness further weighed down his thoughts. **_**Oh, well**_**, the Cybertronian sighed as he relaxed overexerted systems. **_**Something to consider tomorrow… maybe.**_

**That's when the muttering started. He'd gotten in a grand total of (Swindle flicked a glance at his chronometer to make sure), twenty-three minutes and fifteen seconds before this interruption. Grumbling, the 'Con onlined his sensors just as a bottle shattered against the curb. **_**Ohhh great, him again**_**, the huckster groused. Here came the intoxicated fleshy he'd made so ****delightful**** an acquaintance with just two short nights ago. A brief scan located his automotive twin just up ahead. Swindle sighed, watching the organic's uneven approach. **_**If he pokes me again,**__**I'll vaporize him**_**. **

**At last, the man reached the Mitsubishi's side… and he just stood there. Swindle studied his vacant glazed over eyes, waiting for the fleshling's next move. Nothing happened. A little breath huffed out in the chilly air, and the drunk blinked. **_**Could it be,**_** the 'Con-mech wondered. The organic looked around his surroundings in mute confusion. **_**Has this stupid creature finally figured out I'm not his slagging ride? **_**At last, the drunk realized that it was easier to shove his right hand into his pocket if he wasn't holding the wine bottle at the same time. Lifting his sensors skyward, the huckster groaned, **_**I spoke too soon!**_

**The 'Con let out a wheezing laugh when the fleshy, in his eagerness to retrieve his keys, accidentally pushed himself over sideways. Landing on the grass with a heavy thud, he cursed loudly. After making sure his precious alcohol was still safely inside it's container, he got up. Or at least, he tried to. Once Swindle realized the process of learning to stand was going to take longer than three minutes, the Decepticon opened up a computerized game of hearts. He wasn't paying attention when the scruffy human had made his triumphant return to the land of the vertical, nor when the man had managed to balance with a minimum of wobbling on his worn out boots. When the fountain of half processed organic food, acid, and intoxicants exploded out of the fleshling's mouth and all over the Decepticon's side panels, that's when he was more than attentive. Swindle was livid. **

_**You disgusting,**_** he sputtered. The organic wiped his mouth on his sleeve. **_**I can't believe you'd… **_**Drunkenly staggering away a few steps, he was unaware of the outraged alien in his midst. **_**MY PAINT JOB**_**, Swindle finished in a silent wail. In disbelief, he watched the man crawl out on the front lawn like a walking-fish, mumble something incoherent and fall fast asleep. **_**Lousy, stinking, nasty… I'll show you, you undersized, Pit spawned**_**, the Decepticon snarled. He didn't dare open a panel on the side that would be most effective for offlining the annoying little nuisance, the mild stomach acid might leak into something more sensitive than his armor. **

**But he had more than one trick up his sleeve. Opening up a program, he accessed a bit of primitive alien hardware, until… The organic sputtered awake when the equivalent of three gallons of ice-water drenched his world. Staggering to his feet, he looked around at a world of sprinklers and sopping wet ground. "Whu-what," the human demanded, stumbling to the sidewalk. This didn't help, as he soon found out that the water overshot their targets. At last mumbling obscenities about the horrible world he lived in, he moved on. **

**Sighing, he felt the horrible smelling organic acid sluice off his frame. **_**Ahhh**_**, Swindle breathed, at last shutting off the spray. **_**I don't mind a cold shower every once and a while if it means HE stays away. A shame he moved out of range before I could blast him, though.**_** Ever the optimist, he placated himself with the thought that he could always shoot the organic some other night. The Decepticon was about to fall into recharge when a thought occurred to him. **_**Wait a click! **_**He set up a scan and waited the twelve minutes it took for it to finish. **_**Yes! Any and all cats are either indoors or beyond my sensor range! Nothing can stop me now! **_**Firmly, he shut off his optical sensors, deciding that nothing could possibly be worse than that last experience. Boy, was he was wrong!**

**It was the giggling that first drew him out of recharge. Swindle tensed, hearing approaching human footsteps. Loving murmurs from masculine vocal chords followed. The 'Con shuddered as a warm squirming body was draped over his hood. This was followed by a much heavier weight that sank his bumper down by a few inches. More giggling rose up, followed by male chuckles. Wet, overly long kisses smooching away finally convinced the Decepticon to online his optics.**

_**There is a femme organic on my hood**_**, he tiredly observed. She laughed again, making his frame shake slightly. One of her bare legs slid across his damp armor with a dull squeal of organic skin on metal, and the 'Con shuddered. **_**A scantily clad fleshling**_**, he amended. The femme groaned into a kiss and threw her heavily lacquered mane over his intakes. Swindle snorted at the obnoxious obstruction. **

**By human standards, the mech above her was gigantic, a veritable ape in mass as well as looks. Swindle's suspension strained as the male devoted his full weight to the girl beneath him. She giggled again. **_**I don't want to be involved**_**, the Decepticon silently protested. Clothing began getting removed and the huckster swiftly averted his sensors. **_**Primus, get a room, you two!**_** An extremely hairy hand (adorned with a silver skull ring) scraped painfully into the Cybertronian's paintjob, as he ran his fingers under the femme's thigh. **_**Better yet, find another planet!**_

**Cybertronian parts twitched as he struggled, jerked his tires, waved his seatbelts… the stupid aliens were oblivious. Undergarments he solidly refused to research the names of flew into the air, one of which snagged on his antennae like a misshapen flag. "GET THE FRAG OFF ME," he bellowed. Both organics toppled off of his hood like scuttled crabs, their mouths open in shock. "Should blast you two heathens into ions," the Decepticon continued to rant out loud. Swindle broke off his tirade when the two fleshies, instead of continuing their obscene public mating practices, took off screaming into the night. He blinked at their panicked escape. "What," he asked in confusion, before his processor caught up with current events. "I can talk," was the 'Con-mech's startled question. The dead silence of a vacant street was his only answer. "****THANK PRIMUS! I CAN TALK****!!!" **

**He felt wonderful, PERFECT in fact, because he could ****speak****! His beautiful, melodious Cybertronian vocals were in fine working order. Running sound check after sound check, the 'Con practically danced with growing glee. This was almost as good as winning the million credit lottery! It was only then that something else occurred to him. Cocking his wheel, the Mitsubishi Gallant shifted on his tires. Stretching and straining, he bounced up and down on his suspension. An internal strut popped when he tried to rear up on his back tires like a bucking bronco. The only positive results of those last fruitless movements was the bra falling off his radio antennae. **

**Finally, condensation misting over his windows, the 'Con had to admit defeat. "Nope," he sadly realized. "Still can't transform." He spent a few minutes huffing out the heated air of his exertions before his usual good humor reasserted itself. In smiling tones, he repeated his good news, "But I ****CAN**** talk!" Quickly, he brought up his list of carefully laid out contingency plans before settling on Plan Q-one. According to his chronometer, in about five more hours, one backstabbing organic brat was going to be climbing inside him for a trip to high school. The car's internal smirk was pure wickedness. "This," he smugly boasted, "Is going to be easy!"**

* * *

**Sunrise arrived with hazy reluctance through a chilly cloud strewn sky. Swindle waited. At five o'six, fog banks moved in, obscuring the distant buildings of the city. Still, he waited. He was a patient mech, within reason. When seven o'clock arrived, the Decepticon would have been pacing. "Where are they," he complained loudly, before blinking as a new thought hit him. "As far as I know it's not a holiday." He did an internet check just to make sure, before scanning the house again. "Ohhh, the little slagger isn't even up yet! Come on, sweetheart. Quit being so lazy!" The blond nuisance hadn't arrived yet, but he was ready for him. He'd had a good scam in mind for ditching that pale thin organic, but if he never showed up, so much the better. Checking his internal chronometer again, he groused. "The little brat should have come out here a good ten minutes ago!"**

**He was just wondering if she was planning on not attending that infernal Pit of a learning center when a small black jeep came out of the mist. It squealed around the corner, far faster than was safe for such low visibility. "Hah," Swindle chuckled to himself. "Now there's a fleshling with a short shelf life. They're probably going to crash into the nearest moving vehicle." His wires tensed when the land rover swerved… towards him. "I said moving vehicle, MOVING!" The approaching speeder had the audacity not to follow the talking car's orders. "****NOT ME****," he yelled, cringing helplessly as the jeep performed a heart stopping, tire smoking, frame shuddering halt three inches from his bumper. **

**Onlining his visual sensors, he slumped in relief before giving a sour look to the jeep now parked behind him. The feeling only intensified when the organic began stupidly applying his horn. "Stupid fleshy! Fragging reckless, inconsiderate-" **

**The handsome young man behind the wheel of the other car quirked an eyebrow over his sun-visor dark glasses. Griff had seen a lot of things in his life, but a disgruntled automobile was a first. He'd barely seen the toe-jam green car in this pea soup fog, probably because they were the same nasty color. He glanced through his open window at the two story house he was parked next to, and sighed when Cassidy was predictably ****not**** out front. With bored habit, he honked his horn again. "Whoever owns that car had better turn off the radio or they'll be dealing with a dead battery," he commented in offhand tones.**

**Th-that's Cassidy's car," the blond in the back seat informed him**

"**Really," was Griff's dry answer as his recalled that exact same vehicle from yesterday. Considering who owned it, it didn't take a genius to figure out who had done the graffiti job. A teenaged sigh gusted out, before he turned to the shivering burglar behind him. "Yah know what to do, Weaz."**

"**J-j-jeez, yah mind t-turning on a heater, Griff," chattered the shivering thief. He was so tightly wrapped in his favorite coat that he resembled a fuzzy plaid hotdog more than anything else. With numb fingers, he undid his seatbelt and slowly scootched toward the door. "W-why do yah always insist on getting to sk-school an hour early, anyway?"**

"**Only when I have to haul Cassidy's lazy hide to class, give yah three guesses why. And as for the heater…, the teenager in the thin t-shirt deliberated over his answer for a few torturous minutes before giving his answer. "Nah." A pure white smile flashed to life on his cappuccino shaded skin as the predictable whining started from the blond. "Oh, stop being such a baby, and get moving. It's not that cold! Don't yah want to be tough?"**

**Climbing out of the ice-box on wheels, he jumped up and down a few times to wake up sleepy feet, all the while glaring at his friend. "I'll get tough in front of a warm fireplace, thank you very much." He huffed out a frozen breath at the nod that Griff gave him in return that meant 'Get moving!' Morosely, he turned and began a slow trudge up to the Nulte residence. "Freaking sadistic is what it is…" he complained softly.**

"**Now****, Weaz," the still seated teenager ordered. "Hurry it up or I'll ditch yah! I've got a perfect attendance record, and I'm not about to ruin it over your lazy butt!"**

**Mumbling to himself, and flapping his arms to bring about a little more warmth, Weasel jogged up to the house. Wincing at the chill of nearly frozen siding stinging his aching hands, he carefully began scaling the building.**

* * *

**Swindle was surprised to say the least. When the rear door had popped open on the strange vehicle, the last person he expected to appear was the very organic he was waiting for. And the driver… Swindle adjusted his sensors to compensate for the heavily tinted glass before scowling. It was one of the carjackers from yesterday. He watched the teenager lounging in the front seat. "Well, to be fair," Swindle muttered. "That one only insulted my looks and my paintjob. Theft was never actually attempted." The Decepticon flicked a glance toward the other teenager on the roof.**

"**She's in there," Weasel called out unnecessarily. A pout dominated his thin face. "But she put one of those touch sensitive 'Sumdac Alarms' on her window! I hate those things!" The fledgling thief scrambled from one window to another on the second story, sighing in dismay at each one. "Figures they'd modernize all the freaking locks," he bitterly muttered. Honking sounded down below, and he distractedly waved over his shoulder. It would take a computer terminal and a couple of free hours to invite himself in on the second story, but what about... He glanced higher toward a miniscule, hard to reach, attic window. Flexing his pale fingers, he mumbled, "The things I have to do to bum a ride."**

"**Why don't yah just knock on the front door," Griff called back.**

"**But I'm already up here," the blond protested. "It would be wasted effort!" He ignored Griff's rolled eyes and went back wall crawling.**

**Watching contemptuously, Swindle saw the organic scramble and hang in mid-air over a shear drop-off, free climbing toward the highest window. This was not how he had anticipated his morning would go. "Why couldn't she have come up with this solution yesterday? I would have ****welcomed**** it then!" Cassidy, he noticed, was finally getting up. Swindle watched on infra-red as she slowly walked to the back of her room and began dressing. He focused yet again on Weasel just as the teenager let out a victorious exclamation. After opening the window, he twisted around to give his friend an exaggerated thumbs up. Griff's answer was an equally obvious tapped wristwatch. **

**Weasel pouted at the older teenager's attitude, before slipping inside. Squinting in the near dark of his surroundings, he slowly picking his way across Kit's old bedroom. Up here, it was just like the rest of the house, creepily dark and squeaky. Honestly, if he was going to risk his life in 'Operation Cassidy Retrieval,' couldn't Griff be slightly more positive. The few times he'd invited himself into the Nulte house, folks had been less than warm and he couldn't understand why. They were friends, who cared whether he came in the front door or a handy window? **

**Making his way across the creaky wood floor, he carefully peered through the shadows. 'Now, let's see, Cass's room is left… or right? Yeesh, hate these old Victorian floor plans.' At last deciding on going left, the teenager carefully felt along the darkened corridor, before reaching the door he was looking for. Slowly, he pushed opened the barrier and peered sightlessly into the gloom. "Cass," he hissed. "Hey, Cassidy? Wake up! We've gotta get to…" His eyes bugged out when somebody a lot bigger than the brunet loomed out of the dark. Someone with glasses. Letting out an alarmed scream, the teenager twisted out of the way of an extremely long, extremely sharp triangular metal blade. The shadow grunted as he lost his balance. **

"**I'm sorry Mr. Nulte," the blond babbled, scrambling back as fast as his sneakers could manage. "I didn't know this was your room!" The older man didn't seem to register any further than 'INTRUDER,' and Weasel wasn't inclined to argue. Stumbling, he raced back down the corridor he'd just traveled down. Finding the stairs, he took them three at a time, and launched himself at Cassidy the moment he saw her. "SAVE ME!!"**

"**Aack," was the girl's eloquent reply as she found herself with an armful of blond. Coffee spattered everywhere, but she still managed to hold onto her mug. "Weasel, yah made me spill!" Thunderous footsteps and muttered cusswords from a blade wielding maniac in his underwear shook the staircase behind them. Her friend became paler, if it was possible. Cassidy's protest was ignored as long pale thieves fingers latched onto her wrist with panicky strength, and she found herself getting unceremoniously tugged toward the exit. **

"**Weaz?" She took a hasty swallow of what hadn't gotten spilled on the carpet. "What's gotten into yah?" There was no response except the terrified gasps of an overwrought burglar, and the continuing journey toward the vast outdoors. 'It's a good thing,' she reflected, 'that I was already wearing my backpack when I came down.' Just as the last dregs of caffeine flowed down her throat, the chill air of a frozen Detroit morning welcomed her with the strength of a slap. Shivering, the girl added, 'A warm bed never looked so good before, either.' The next instant, her empty mug was snatched from her hands and set down on the mailbox by a very frantic escort.**

"**You're Pop is insane," Weasel declared. "Did you know he has a sword?!?! I DIDN'T KNOW," he chattered, nearly hyperventilating. He looked back hurriedly, expecting the man to come charging out after him any minute. With lithe adrenaline filled grace, he slipped behind the brunet and began herding her toward the waiting jeep.**

**Cassidy blinked sleepily from lack of caffeine. "Sword?" She scrunched up her forehead, feeling puzzled. All the swords in the house belonged to her brother Kit and herself. The only thing her father owned that was even close was… "Ohhh. Weaz, that wasn't a sword he had. It was probably his bayonet," she informed him, climbing into the front passenger seat.**

**The sight of glasses glinting malevolently from the front window was enough of an incentive to pile into the jeep as fast as he could. A moment later and the curtains swished back into place obscuring any further view. Weasel let the breath he'd been holding back out when no further retaliation occurred, before Cassidy's words registered in his brain. Ice blue eyes stared at her, right when he was in mid-act of putting on his seatbelt. "A bayonet? There was no way that sucker was a bayonet! The freakin' thing had to be three feet long!!!" **

**She shook her head. "Nah, only a foot and a half. Your brain's exaggerating again. The guy's a Civil War re-creationist. What, yah didn't know?" **

"**What was he using it against me for," the thief whined. "All I did was open his door!"**

**Cass stared. 'He couldn't be that clueless,' she wondered. 'Could he?' Upon seeing his open, hurt expression, she sighed. 'Apparently, he could.' "Weasel, look at it from his perspective. You're in a room that's pitch black, fast asleep. Your bedroom door creaks open, and there's a shadowy figure on the other side that you don't recognize. Now what would you think he'd do? You're lucky he didn't stick yah!"**

"**Um, guys," Griff's deep baritone intruded. "I hate to interrupt your little attempt to civilize Weasel…"**

"**Hey," the blond in the back seat protested.**

"**But I think you're car's busted," Griff smoothly finished. The car was parked innocently on the curb in front of them, a dark form amidst the swirling fog. If one used their imagination, it almost looked like a crouched predator waiting for the best moment to pounce. Of course, that idea was ridiculous, it was just a car. Still… Together, the teenagers peered through the drifting gloom at the Mitsubishi's shadowed form. **

"**Finally****," Swindle intoned with friendly annoyance. Considering his precarious position, namely, being a wanted mech, left him with a need for secrecy. The less people that knew what he was, the better. Therefore, he had to be stealthy, impersonal, and enticing. Just enough to convince his 'owner' to come near, so he could convince ****her**** and ****her****alone**** to work with him. So he'd chosen option 'C,' sweet talk the stupid organic to his side, scam her into trusting him and keeping her mouth shut. Then voila, he'd get his timepiece back! The only problem, as he'd soon discovered, was getting the teenager to actually ****listen****. "What do I have to do to get a little ATTENTION around here?" Everyone jumped at the unexpected loudness. "Such a ****sweet**** audience! Now, have I got a deal for you! I'm talking ****lots**** of MULLAH, fresh for the taking. Come on down ****TODAY****!" **

**A grimace crossed Cassidy's face at the overly smarmy sales job blaring their way. "I think I've heard this used car advertisement on the radio before," she mumbled. "Pop told me he was a real shyster. If this was the Olympics, I'd give him a three point zero."**

**Hearing every word, Swindle gritted his dentas and doggedly plowed on. "Now I'm a ****very**** generous guy! I'll take cash, IOU's, Primus, even ****YOUR OLD POCKETWATCH**** and exchange it for TRUCKLOADS of cash! Ha, ha," chuckled the car. "All I want is a little of your time. I'm sure we'll be fast ****friends****!"**

"**Man," Weasel declared through chattering teeth. "I can lie better than that! And I flunked all you're Pop's scam artist lessons!" A sympathetic note entered his blue eyes as he added, "Personally, I give him a five point one. Poor bastard's probably a newbie on the market." The blaring sales voice faltered slightly, before coming back full strength with a slightly angrier tone. Now that they were inside the jeep, the blond felt reasonably safer from accidental stabbings. There was just the slightest problem in the temperature department. "Hey, Griff, turn on a heater. I think I'm turning blue!" **

"**No!" Griff aimed a sidelong blue visored stare Cassidy's way. "Personally, I'd give the man a four point three. He really needs to brush up his technique. Beyond that, that radio's been on ever since I got here. Yah want to turn it off before the cars battery dies?"**

**Visibly brightening, Cassidy pulled on her belt. In hopeful tones she asked, "The battery could die?" Taking this as a cue to leave, Griff rolled his eyes and turned the key.**

"**WAIT," the huckster shouted as the jeep drove by. When he'd begun, Swindle was completely convinced it would be easy. The last thing he'd expected was to get rated, and poorly at that! Like these organics knew proper sales techniques? Hah! By Cybertronian standards, they were born ****yesterday****! He tried one last dose of greed. "I'll make it worth your whiiile!" To the 'Con-mech's growing annoyance, they continued merrily speeding off as if he hadn't said a thing. "That's it! No more Mr. Nice Mech," he declared, accessing his gun. Unfortunately, his latest target zoomed around the corner seconds before the weapon could finish assembling. "Slag!" **


	9. Chapter 9

Confidence Game

Chapter 9: Door to Door

By: Mooncrossed

_Ten new reviews?!?! The author's eyes bug out in absolute amazement. Thanks guys, prayer really does work! Hey, animaluvr3, nice to hear from you again! I think I should warn you, Swindle's next attempt will involve names. The question is, will anybody listen? StoryMaker7, thanks for the review! I think the joys of finding his voice again have easily overshadowed any embarrassment. And Screamer's just a Screamer, wow! I'm still floored! Glad I could entertain you! I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, Jeeps, Swindle Enterprises (just in case such an organization exists), Snow White, or the Kill Bill movie. And now, on with the show!_

* * *

_At three-O-four in the afternoon…_

Climbing out of the jeep, Cass gave an offhand wave to the rapidly disappearing vehicle before slowly trudging toward her house. 'Man, what a day,' she thought tiredly shouldering her one-ton backpack, only to slow her steps when a new sound invaded her ears.

"Yoo-hoo, Sweetheart! Over here," called an overly smooth voice.

It took her a moment to remember the Mitsubishi and it's little problem. Her shoulders sagged, protesting the idea of having to walk any further than they had to with this gargantuan load of academic agony.

"Honey, I know what you're thinking," the car continued, "And I can tell you right now that you've got it all wrong. So if you'll just step this way…"

She let out a put upon sigh and gave the car a half-hearted look, which was followed by a glance at the welcoming cool shadows of her own home. The girl had really hoped Griff's words would prove true, too. If the car's battery was dead, she could put off getting a new one for weeks, maybe even months. Instead, the Torture Car had pulled through. 'Still,' she mused, brightening. 'Maybe if I leave it alone, it could still run down.' Slightly more chipper, she lugged her heavy burden toward the front door.

"No, no, kid," the car chuckled as if amusing a kindergartner. "I meant toward me, not further away!"

Hallelujah, she was almost up to the porch steps. Then she could let go of the backpack of doom and take a nice relaxing shower… Only two more steps, then she could forget all the burdens of high school for another day, except homework… Cassidy gritted her teeth, resolving not to think about it. She firmly refused to consider an assignment until the last minute, anyway.

Taking a hurried glance around with his sensors to make sure there were no witnesses, he finally gave in and shouted, "CASSIDY!" Swindle mentally cheered when the teenager stumbled slightly, only to groan in dismay as she continued right on through the door. Flicking his windshield wipers in frustration, he muttered, "What is she, deaf?"

Encountering her mother, she greeted the older woman as was expected, namely by almost dropping a loaded backpack on her foot. Gina gracefully sidestepped the bone breaking object without taking her eyes off the mystery novel she was reading. "Hi, dear." Cassidy grunted in response. "Did I hear someone call your name?"

"My name's the most popular for boys and girls in America today," Cassidy groaned back. "And considering it was on the radio, I'd have to say no." She headed deeper into the house to get some much needed water.

Swindle just parked, or more like slumped. All these failures were serving to give him a serious inferiority complex. "I can't transform yet, and I lack the luxury of brakes or ignition," he mumbled. "But that shouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things. I'm a sales-mech of the highest order. I've charmed the rich and the lowly all across the galaxy into trusting me without the slightest effort. So, what's so different about this organic?" He puzzled over it some more as the sun sank slowly toward an alien rummage of industrial buildings. Another opportunity didn't present itself until just after five in the evening.

Cassidy slammed out of her house in high annoyance, muttering to herself about stupid blonds and their 'poor me' excuses. Unlocking the car door, she dropped into the driver's seat with an unhappy huff of air. "What do I look like, a chauffer," she asked as she rolling her eyes, before gazing at the radio. To her disappointment, the battery was still working perfectly.

"WELCOME to the grand prize drawing," blared a certain annoying sales voice. Hey, if she was going to assume he was an advertisement no matter what he did, he might as well work with it! "May we have the drum roll please…," he added a carefully sought out recording he'd found on the internet. "And the WINNER is-" Rock and roll riff's replaced his words as she changed the channel to something a little less bothersome, before beginning yet another terrifying journey along Detroit's city streets.

Gritting his dentas through what passed for music on this planet (a turbo-fox caught in a trash compactor would sound more melodious), Swindle waited until it was over before trying again. "Are you troubled," he crooned.

Cassidy's eyes widened incredulously, even as she focused on the road with nervous, sweating attention. "I am now! Yeesh, how much advertising time did this bastard buy?"

"Have you found yourself with too many obligations and not enough free time," Swindle continued to inquire, all the while resisting the urge to smack her repeatedly with a belt buckle. "Well LOOK no further! Come to Swindle Enterprises and WIN BIG TODAY!"

Snorting out a laugh Cassidy changed channels again, this time to a twangy country station. "Talk about being born under a bad sign," she exclaimed out loud. "If I was that poor schmuck, I'd ask for a name change, stat!" The car engine chose that moment to roar loudly enough to make her jump. Abruptly, the radio switched right back to advertisements.

"We are drawing for a lucky lady named… CASSIDY, who has won a FREE VACATION," the announcer declared jovially with barely masked vexation. "All she has to do is prove she owns a POCKETWATCH to make the deal final!"

Listening to this, Cass scoffed, "And what about the return trip, lame-o? Probably an all expenses paid one-way ticket to the nearest third world nation, if that!"

_More like the stratosphere_, Swindle silently threatened, with effort resisting the urge to activate his ejection seats. Mentally counting to a thousand in five point three seconds, he continued. "We can reassure you that our organization is as serious as it is trustworthy," the announcer declared. "I repeat, one Cassidy Nu-" His words were lost in an abrupt rush of wind as all the windows were lowered…

"EXCUSE ME, YOU ANNOYING FEMME," the radio yelled, finally loosing it's temper. Cassidy was also beginning to look annoyed as well, gripping the steering wheel and glaring out the windshield. "I'M TRYING TO MAKE A DEAL HERE!" He tightened his belts angrily, "SO QUIT IGNORING M-" His words became a stream of Cybertronian cuss words as small brown fleshling fingers nearly twisted his volume knob off with one painful wrench.

A weird electronic buzz filled the car. Cass raised one eyebrow in curiosity. This noise was followed by what sounded like a combination of an angry cat trying to walk on an electric guitar and an out of tune saxophone. Huh, she'd always thought that that dial was what turned off a radio. Weird… Shrugging, she cocked the wheel before finally arriving on South Vail Avenue. "Oh, well," the teenager grinned. "I'll take this electronic racket over that guys sales blather any day!" The 'Con began plotting his next moves just as they pulled up to their destination.

Slowly, they cruised to a stop by an overly large Tudor style house that looked as if it belonged in a reproduction of the Snow White fairytale. Cross gables and a steeply pitched roof loomed over the walkway like a repairman's nightmare. It was painted white, but had now aged to the point that it looked more like the color of old parchment. Welcome to the Weisel Home, an old ivy wrapped sign invited above the front porch. A beautiful old sycamore tree with a familiar brown cat resting in it's boughs, completed the picture of residential tranquility. Looks, though, could be extremely deceiving. Cassidy waited, yet nobody emerged.

Another ten minutes still yielded the same results, and the brunet dropped her head to the steering wheel with a groan of despair. "I really don't want to enter that three-ring-circus," she whimpered out loud to no-one in particular. Don't get her wrong, individually the Weisel's were great. They had an intrinsic understanding of current events that was uncanny, they were polite to a fault, were perfectly sane, and were frighteningly honest, but when they were together… She cringed when an explosion normally only seen in war movies lit an upper story bedroom with pyrotechnic glory. This was followed by a feminine scream of pure rage. Kali, the only cat that was brave enough, or possibly just crazy enough to live in the Weisel household, scootched for cover.

Seconds later, a different upstairs window slid open and two soot covered urchins scrambled out amidst pouring smoke. They swung down the sycamore tree like hyper orangutans, and raced around the side of the house. Shortly afterwards, a teenage girl with blood in her eye climbed out the window after them. The tall brunet didn't bother using any handy branches as her younger brothers had, instead flipping with silent grace to the grass down below. She swung her head left and right, before stomping one tennis shoe in frustration. "Hey, Harrie," Cassidy called out cheerfully.

Harriet Weisel blinked, for the first time noticing the brunet in the squat green Mitsubishi. Deciding to temporarily give up on making the two youngest members of her family face justice, she instead strolled Cassidy's way with lithe, tanned strides. She looked like her brothers, in that she was lean, long legged, and tall. Her dark pixie features hovered into view as she leaned down to see inside. "Hey, Cass! Nice ride," she greeted pleasantly.

"Thanks for the lie," the shorter brunet quipped, not missing a beat. Swindle flickered his console in annoyance.

Rolling cobalt blue eyes, Harriet scoffed at the lame joke. "I meant the design, wise guy," she answered in longsuffering sarcasm. Swindle was feeling marginally placated until the femme finished her thought. "I mean, don't get me wrong, the paintjob is the color of puke, but the rest of it has a nice retro feel." One carefully manicured eyebrow rose at the unnatural sounds grumbling out of the radio.

"It's been busted since this morning," Cassidy explained off of her look. Before she could volunteer to fix it, Cass changed the subject. The brunet still hoped it was the beginning of a catastrophic systems failure, so the last thing she wanted was the Weisel magic touch repairing everything in sight. "So, the clones giving you trouble," she asked, referring to the two soot covered brothers from moments before.

Gritting her teeth and casting her eyes skyward she answered, "When aren't they? This is the fifth jewelry box they've set explosives for, and destroyed the contents of, this month!" She kicked a tuft of grass, scowling.

Already bored with the conversation, Swindle stopped listening. _I almost had her_, he groused silently before sighing. It looked like open threats and revealing his true nature was the only was to go… unfortunately. He hated the idea. Not only did he have to rely on another's dubious skills, he'd most likely have to be openly honest to garner the appropriate help. A shudder ran through his frame at the idea. There had to be a better plan! If she told anyone about his location, he was sunk. Detecting movement on his sensors, Swindle zeroed in on the sneaking approach of two human younglings. They crept along the ground as silently as glitch mice, ducking from bush, to tree, to parked car. Neither girl seemed to notice.

Wincing in sympathy, Cassidy waited until the other girl had finished her rant before offering any advice. "Harrie, I've told yah, it's the challenge of the security system the twins are interested in, not the stuff inside. Don't put any locks on the thing, and they won't blow it up! It's simple reverse psychology."

"No, no, no," she shook her head in denial. "I refuse to admit defeat that easily! Maybe a laser grid would be a good solution…" The taller girl drifted off contemplatively, her mind was already concocting a defense system worthy of the White House.

Recognizing the signs of yet another epic struggle between siblings, Cassidy sighed. 'And, there they go again,' she mused. Before she could be included in all the madness, she commented, "By the way, Kit's made it safely to his destination."

"Huh," Harriet murmured, still concocting the finer points in her anti-brother alarm.

"Yep," she continued, nonchalantly studying her nails. "I won't be seeing him again for over a year…"

The taller girl glanced down at the still seated Cassidy, for the first time really listening. "Didn't he go to Chile?"

"Japan," she corrected.

"That lucky red-headed bastard," Harriet breathed with worshipful awe. "I'd kill to live that far away from my brothers!" Her eyes glazed over in blissful imaginings, a far cry from the villainous plotting she was indulging in a moment ago. Cassidy grinned, pleased to have helped her friend survive yet another day of insanity, even if it was only for a moment.

By this point, the twins had now snuck onto the Weisel family front porch. Warily, two sets of identical sky blue eyes considered the chatty teenagers from soot darkened faces. One eased the screen door open with a grimy hand. Swindle studied them with idle curiosity. Aside from a few minor differences, they were identical in every way. He wondered if human twins had any similarities to the Cybertronian kind. The first one ducked inside, and the second one silently moved to follow when disaster struck in the form of a loose floorboard. Honestly, if Swindle hadn't been straining his audios to their limits, he would have missed that slight creak.

Their sister was an entirely different matter. She twisted around like she'd heard a gun shot, her cobalt eyes glittering. In drill sergeant tones she barked, "HEY! Come back here you two! I'm gonna string yah up by your shoelaces!" Naturally, this wasn't a very encouraging invitation. With matching shrieks of laughter, the seven year olds dashed into the house, Harriet hot on their heals.

"Hey, Harrie," Cassidy frantically shouted. "If yah see Weasel, let him know I'm here! Okay?" A screen door banging closed was the only answer. Cassidy bit her lip, eying the house with indecision. A greater part of her mind was telling her to just ditch him, while her incredibly stupid conscious was advising her to go check up on him in Bomb-Central. Finally, hesitantly, she reached out and pulled on the door handle, only to blink. It wouldn't open! Looking at the disobedient door in consternation, she missed the flight of the very blond she was sent to retrieve. Weasel tumbled out of the house as if he was being chased by Dobermans. Desperate frost blue eyes took in his only source of salvation, and he dove.

Soaring like a torpedo, Weasel landed right in her lap making her forget all about the door lock. Letting out a squawk, Cassidy shoved the blond to the car floor with bruising force. "Why can't yah use a door like a normal person," the brunet shouted loudly. A groan was the only reply. In that instant, Harriet seemed to appear on the porch like something from a nightmare. Her short boy cut hair, normally very cute and stylish, now stood on end. Carefully manicured nails, usually completely harmless looking, resembled the sharpest of claws, and her eyes… Well, lets put it this way, Cass wouldn't have been at all surprised if fire and brimstone didn't start pouring out.

Weasel, who was just climbing onto the seat let out an alarmed meep at his approaching destruction and ducked back down again. "Would yah just drive," he begged in an unmanly whimper.

Her hands shaking, the brunet just barely got the vehicle moving before Weasel's sister could reach them. Cassidy had to give Harriet credit. She managed to keep up with them for two blocks running before they lost her. "Never piss off a sprinter," she mumbled softly, her curly hair standing on end. Slowly coasting to a stop at the next corner, she put the Torture Car in park and favored the cringing blond on the floor boards with a disapproving look. "What did yah do this time, Weaz?"

He blinked up at her, first in relief that all his parts were still in proper working order, then in confusion at the question, ending with protest. "I didn't do anything!"

"No, Weaz, just… no," Cass answered, feeling very tired all of a sudden. "Harriet only gets murderous when something truly heinous happens in fashion, school sports, or to her belongings. Since you were her main target, I reiterate, what did you do?"

Still, he hesitated, attempting to find a good cover story. One look from the queen of the fast talkers made him cave. "Ok, it was like this," Weasel began. "I was minding my own business when the biggest explosion to date rocked the other side of the house." He paused in his story telling and gazed off into the distance. "There's no way I could be related to those twin terrors."

"Weaz," she interrupted. "Yah forget, I've met your relatives! So believe me when I say this, you are definitely in the same family. Beyond that, focus! What did yah do?" A car pulled up behind them, so Cassidy glumly put the vehicle in gear and drove.

"Well," the blond continued after warily looking through the back window to make sure the driver behind them wasn't a psychotic older sister. "So I jumped up and raced out of my room, at which point I tripped over the vacuum cleaner…" Cassidy's put upon sigh was enough of an incentive to speed up his story. "I thought Harriet got buried under the rubble."

Easily guessing the results of that little mistake, Cassidy exclaimed, "So she came back when yah were in the middle of ransacking her room?!?! I'd kill yah for that!"

"That's the same thing she called it, along with five or six death threats… and Ransacking is not what I was up to," the thief protested defensively. "It was rearranging! And when I tried to explain, she went all 'Kill Bill' on me!" He pouted at the memory.

'Kill-who,' she wondered momentarily sidetracked, before deciding it was best not to ask. Knowing Weaz, it was probably some obscure movie reference from fifty plus years ago. "So where's your Pop in all this insanity," Cassidy asked instead, making a turn signal.

"Eh, doing an Italian job I think…," the blond drifted off, not really paying attention. He looked up at his friend when he felt her heavy stare boring into the side of his skull. "Not like that," he protested. "I meant the country, not the Sicilians! We aren't that crazy!"

Letting out the breath she'd been holding, Cassidy quadruple checked the roadway ahead before turning. "In your family, Weaz, sometimes I wonder."

Weasel continued talking right over her comment. "Pop always does a foreign job whenever Mom and Harriet start PMSing." Propping his chin on his hand, he finished glumly, "And the cheap bastard won't take me with him."

Listening in to the conversation, Swindle softly laughed. _Heh, he might __think__ that's the reason, but I'd bet a fifty credit mark it's really because he doesn't want to be slowed down by a novice._ Swindle squirmed minutely. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he didn't like anyone in the Weisel family, especially the two filthy younglings hiding in his back seat. They had snuck in through his back window seconds before their oldest brother had demonstrated his flight capabilities. So far, all they had done was hide, but that wasn't what worried him. It was the fact that each boy had the homemade ingredients for up to sixteen firecrackers, and had been exchanging them for the past ten minutes. Looking up one final time, Todd and Davie, deciding the coast was clear, popped up like twin engine pistons. _If my seat cushions get scorched by those two, _the Con silently vowed,_ I'll go ballistic! _

"Gack," Weasel exclaimed as two seven year olds tackled him from behind. "What the heck! Cass, we've been invaded!" He fought to tear away the twenty little fingers that were trying to cover his eyes, or else gouge them out. With his kid brothers, it was always a toss up.

"Guys, when did you get in here," Cassidy demanded. She made the mistake of taking her eyes off the road, and almost slammed into a parked car. Only rapid corrections from Swindle prevented the accident. Neither Cassidy or Weasel saw the near collision, but the twins did. In seconds, they were back in their seats and properly belted, their bright blue eyes staring with alarm.

"Can we come with you," Davie pleaded. "If we stay at the house, Harriet will kill us!" His identical twin nodded and pantomimed cutting his own throat.

"Hey," Weasel protested. He glared accusingly at the occupants of the back seat. "Who got her pissed to begin with?"

"Who made it even worse, Mister I was only checking for survivors," Davie, the spokesman of the duo, accused back. Todd, his silent supporter, crossed his arms and glared.

"At least I don't play with stuff that could blow a hole in the side of the world," Weasel argued.

"Well, at least I don't fight like a chick," Davie boasted. "I mean, unlike Todd, here." His twin was nodding in full agreement until his brother finished that sentence. Then it was complete pandemonium. That's when the car skidded to the side of the road and parked in front of a random house. The two seven year olds didn't even notice, too intent on proving their manly qualities.

Blond and brunet looked at one another. Weasel nodded to Cassidy's silent question. "Well, that's too BAD," she intoned. "Because I was planning on playing Who-dun-it before we went shopping." Instant silence descended on the back seat of the car. Two sets of identical sky blue eyes stared at her. "Buuut, since you two are so naughty, I guess we'll have to head back home…"

"That's not fair," Davie protested loudly. "It was really all Todd's dumb plan, not mine!" He received a punch to the gut for his lies, followed by wild finger pointing from his twin.

Before it could erupt into another fight, Cassidy pulled over. "If yah promise not to fight until after this entire trip's over, we'll play the game now. Capiche?" Both boys froze, one was seconds away from giving his brother a black eye, and the other was in the process of trying to gnaw off his twin's left arm. Immediately, they stopped and sat up straight in their seats with their hands folded. The brunet could swear that little matching halos appeared over each of their heads. They nodded. Cass gave them a suspicious look. "Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," came the eagerly chorused response.

"Alright! Shake on it," Cassidy declared, and what felt like seven or eight little soot covered hands invaded her palm. The brunet's eyes twinkled in rueful amusement. "Heh, gonna have to ask your mom if you've gotten into something radio-active… Ok, we can play the game." In seconds the back seat was vacant, the two boys racing across the front lawn of somebody's house.

Slumping against the door, Weasel waiting for the torture to begin. It wasn't the game that he was particularly adverse to, but the participants. 'And why are they always so obedient for Cass, and never me,' he wondered indignantly as he slowly slinked out the car door. He missed the fact that the Mitsubishi slumped with unmistakable relief, instead of rising the moment his butt left the seat.

"Ooh, ooh," Davie piped up, waving his hand. "Can I be the dead body?"

Cassidy paused in mid-act of vacating the car from her side, before shaking her head. "You've been hanging around the Goth kids too much." The seven year old gave her a big eyed pleading look. Sighing, she nodded, "Ok kid, yah can." She watched the boy cheer and race around the yard at hyper speed.

"Cass, nooo," Weasel complained, watching the spectacle of a brother with too much sugar in his system. "You've unleashed a monster."

"He's not that bad," the girl chided, then remembered a new rule. "Oh, that reminds me. Hey, Davie! Don't pretend to be one of the undead and bite people this time, okay!" The smaller blond sent an answering wave before turning another cartwheel. She ignored Weasel's hang dog stare and gestured grandly toward the lawn up ahead. "Shall we?"

Swindle flexed his windshield wipers in confusion at that oxymoron, then decided to shelve it. _Since when were organics logical, anyway_, he mused. The main thing was, it was entertainment, short and simple. For a bored Cybertronian who had nothing but daytime soap-operas to keep him occupied, this was Primus-sent.

Rolling his eyes, the thief shoved his hands into the pockets of his flannel coat. "Let's just get this over with," he groaned.

"Okay," she agreed with a shrug. Together, they looked at Davie, who had given up on the cartwheels, and was now spinning round and round in the middle of somebody's garden. "Hey, Davie," she shouted. The twin jerked to a stop and looked at her in dizzy confusion. Cassidy said one word: "Bang." Immediately, the boy choked and gagged, clutching at his chest. Three minutes later Weasel checked his watch and let out a loud sigh. Cass rolled her eyes. Dropping to the sandy soil, his younger brother clawed theatrically at the air for a moment, before laying down on some petunias. "DIE, ALREADY," both teenagers chorused. With a final gurgle, Davie 'expired,' clutching a sunflower to his chest.

Exchanging a look, Cassidy and Weasel began slowly approaching the scene of the 'crime.' "Well, Rookie," the brunet said dryly adopting a confident swagger. "What kind of evidence have we got so far?" Todd crept out of hiding and began collecting 'samples' from the victim. Davie broke out of character long enough to smack him for attempting to pick his pocket. Giving up on that avenue of proper police behavior, he began stringing up imaginary police tape instead.

With a sharp glance down at his friend, Weasel fell into character. "The victim died at approximately…," he checked his watch. "O-four-thirty in the morning, Officer Winchell! Perpetrator, unknown."

A crooked smile quirked up at her new name before Cass adopted a professional air. Together, they carefully picked their way among the flowers. Once they got there, her face morphed into an expression of pure disgust. "Yuck! What a horrible way to go. He's a bloody mess!" They ignored the giggling rising up from the 'corpse.' "Due to my years of expertise, I have a fair idea of who was responsible. Judging by the flattened appearance of the victim, and the giant footprints in the lawn…"

Also beginning to grin, the blond picked up on her line of reasoning. "The huge gaping hole in the backyard," he added. A look of exaggerated amazement spread over his face, "The roof ripped right off that house…"

'Officer Winchell' nodded, on a roll. "Overturned vehicles, a blown up sycamore tree…"

At this point they both chorused, "And stuff parked nearby that has no business being here!"

"A tank in the driveway," Cassidy pointed to a kid's Tonka truck, now renamed a 'tank.'

"The ice-cream truck in the backyard," Weasel smilingly declared, gesturing toward an overly large satellite dish.

"And that World War Two submarine that just happens to be across the street," she concluded. "Yep, this is obviously a very messy case of-" At that moment, Todd who had been mostly ignored, ducked into their midst to hand her a sheet of notebook paper. It had been folded and refolded until it was roughly the shape of a rectangle. More important was what was written on it. Cassidy raised her eyebrows at the crudely drawn dollar sign, followed by a one, and a whole lot of zeros. She turned it over, and noted that the zeros continued on the back as well, before pocketing the fake money. "Obviously a suicide," she announced brightly.

By this point, Swindle was fighting to hide his laughter. They were so absurd! A small dog, one that resembled a rat more than anything else, began barking from the nearby house. "Chihuahua: a breed of small dog originating in-," his search engine immediately defined, only to fall silent when he ruthlessly shut it off. No need to alert the locals. Sitting back on his tires, he watched the 'dead body' miraculously come back to life.

"WHAT," Davie shrieked, sitting up in outraged surprise. "I got stomped on! How does THAT equal suicide!"

"Well, Davie," Cassidy began, stooping down to his level. "It all depends on how big a bribe the cops get. This is Detroit, after all, and you're brother emptied out the national treasury to hide the truth."

"Yeah, a shame what the world's coming to," Weasel commented with a smile. His eyes widened when he noticed the curtains of the house they were in front of rustle slightly. Then he took a good solid look at the mess of ripped up flowers and strewn dirt. "Eh… Cass?"

"Hmmm," she asked absently.

"I think it's time to make tracks," he exclaimed, taking off. Both twins looked up as the front door slammed. Cassidy's head jerked up with the first outraged shout. Like the childhood delinquents they were, they took off down the street, the old lady who owned the mulched flower bed yelling threats all the while. The old blue haired woman sighing over the mess and hobbled back into the house.

No-one noticed the slightly shivering car parked nearby. He just barely contained his amusement until everyone was out of sight, before he let out laugh after wheezing laugh until his coolant system kicked in. "Whew," he finally finished, with a few more chuckles. "These organics are hilarious! Makes me wish I could sell tickets!" He sighed again and glanced around his surroundings. Amazingly enough, he just didn't feel like resting right now.

In silence, he listened to the wind blow. With lazy grace, two leaves twisted and turned their way in a meandering dance to the ground. This was followed by one more… then another two… "Ok, rather than sit here and rust my processor, I might as well see what's on the old boob tube," Swindle announced with sarcastic good humor. "Court TV," he considered reluctantly, then switched to another station with a muttered, "Nope, done that! Soap opera… eh, boring!" He scanned again. "Game Show? Hah, not unless I'm running it! Black and white sitcom… nope!" Impatiently, he zapped through all the other seven-hundred and thirty-six channels in forty-two seconds before giving up with a huff. Organic programming was just too primitive to hold his interest for long. He fell silent when his sensors picked up a slowly driving vehicle, heading his way. All boredom left him when he identified what kind.

Cruising to a stop on the quiet suburban street, two exhausted looking cops exited their vehicle. "Man! I hate this assignment," one of them complained. His companion grunted an affirmative. "How many cars have we checked now? And they're all clean! Not a single alien among 'em!" Looking at his clipboard to make sure, he commented, "Thank God, there's only ten left! Then maybe we can get some real work done." The middle-aged officer grunted again. Ringing the doorbell, they waited for a long moment.

Now on pins and needles, Swindle was especially concerned when the talkative officer glanced his way with curious eyes. "Hey, Herrera," the organic began.

"Yeah," his partner grunted. Normally, he'd be a little more upbeat, but Herrera had had the high school traffic cop assignment that week. He winced as he felt another painful twinge from his sore back. "What is it, Samuels?"

Samuels opened his mouth to ask about that suspicious Mitsubishi on the curb. Thankfully, he was interrupted. The door swung open, followed by a river of complaints. "Oh, officers! I'm so glad you could come at such short notice. Those little punks did a number on my flower bed!"

Tensely, the Cybertronian observed the two organics, as they tried to get a word in edgewise. Then he watched them attempt to placate her by reassuring that they'd take statements. Finally, they convinced her to show them the fancy red convertible she'd bought for such a nice price down at the car auction. "And don't you boys look perfectly handsome in those uniforms," she gushed, batting false eyelashes. At last they were thank-you'd right out to their vehicle, all without having the chance to give that small green car on the curb a second thought. The huckster didn't let out the air in his intakes until the cruiser was out of sight, then he accessed his HUD. Most of his systems were repaired. All that was left were the most complex areas, like brakes, gas, windows, long range communications and scans, and that all important trick: transforming.

Just as the sun was setting in the hazy sky, Cassidy and company finally arrived. Swindle was so happy he nearly sprang a leak! He didn't even care that he would be driven by that glitched femme. If it meant he got to leave this little street, it wouldn't be too soon. The motley collection of organics carefully crept to his side and climbed in, dragging their things with them. Even the fact that Cassidy had again begun her nervous trembling and jerky movements behind the wheel didn't bother him. With a desperate engine growl, they drove away.

* * *

_North Vail Avenue, four hours later…_

The conversation he'd overheard from the two organics had proven his worst fears. He really was a wanted mech around here, and not in a good way. Normally, this wouldn't bother him. Of course, under the usual circumstances, he'd have a very handy get away plan already in place. Unfortunately, his ship had wanted to do a little exploring in this sector and was still out of range of his weakened systems. _If only there was some way to get the word out without disclosing a thing about myself_, he moped. His headlights abruptly flickered as an idea came to life. _But maybe I can!_ Within seconds, he'd discovered a certain phone number and called. Now he waited… and he waited some more… Curious, he focused his audios on the organic dwelling.

Mr. Nulte raced into the house from his garage, breathing hard. He was the owner of a small home business and couldn't afford to let a call slip by. Within seconds, he'd picked it up. "Yes?"

"Good evening, Sir," the sales-mech began, his voice as smooth and well oiled as the richest drinks credits could buy. "I realize it's late, but if I could just spare a moment of your time-" Swindle broke off when the connection ended without even a goodbye. Inwardly frowning, he sent out the signal again.

"Lousy telemarketers," the organic muttered, walking away. He'd almost made it down the steps to the backyard, only to sprint back up at the first baleful electronic call. "Nulte residence?"

"Ha, ha, I'm sorry about that little mix up," the Mitsubishi began jovially. "My name is Swin-" He flinched his belt buckles at the harsh electronic feedback of receiver meeting cradle with the speed of a knock out punch. Gritting his dentas, he tried again.

"Somebody else answer the phone, because I don't want to this time," Toby declared as he slammed through the back door. He paused in front of the kitchen phone and glared at it accusingly. "I'm still not going to pick it up," he announced loudly. It rang again; his hands twitched. "Oh, screw it," he grumbled and snatched up the receiver. "Yes?"

"May I speak to Ca-," was the next attempt, with predictable results. The huckster let out a frustrated growl that was part Cybertronian curse and part engine rumble. "Fragging Pit spawned piece of…"

"God, I hate phones," the human muttered, walking away. He stiffened at the renewing of that familiar ring. His right eye twitched and a pair of organic fists clenched. The red faced man growled under his breath before yelling, "Is anyone still ALIVE? I'm NOT the phone butler! Somebody answer the FREAKING telephone!"

"Alright, alright, Sheesh," complained a certain teenager on the second floor. "Do you realize how hard it is to reach a phone from my room? And by the time I've gotten there, you've already answered and hung up!" Cassidy ignored her father's temper tantrum and picked up one of the few remaining phones on the second story. "Hello," she drawled lazily.

"Yes," the Decepticon began in a state of relief. "You may not know ME, but I know YOU! It's just that, I believe you have something that belongs to me…"

"Mmm-hmm," she mumbled noncommittally. Cass hated these impersonal dial-a-scam phone calls. They were always so obvious, so fake, and too cowardly to risk anything in person. She rolled her eyes as the man on the other end used a bluff she'd been taught when she was six years old. 'I mean, please,' she scoffed to herself. 'What kind of jerk thinks that ploy works anymore?' A glance at the clock on the wall confirmed that a grand total of ten minutes of her life had been stolen, and that was ten minutes too many. There was biology homework that was more enticing than this!

"So," Swindle continued, at last thankful to be making some headway. "If you'll just step outside and drive to the location of that little trinket, I'd be ever so grateful! In fact, I'm sure I could find an exceptional reward for such a lovely good deed."

"Listen up, Pal," Cassidy interrupted. "I realize that you're probably some poor schmuck stuck in a boiler room somewhere, and I feel for yah. But I have a life to live. So, why don't yah take your business elsewhere, because we're not buying!"

"Now wait just a minute," the 'Con protested. "You haven't heard what I have to offer. I'm a very wealthy mech- er… man, and I have all sorts of neat sales items-"

"Good-by-eee," she sang over his last minute babbling before pressing the off button. Then she exacted a special trick to insure no further interruptions from the repeat caller. Spinning on her heal, she once again began the weary trudge to her room and the slave labor her teachers demanded. Oh, how she hated biology lab reports!

"CALL BLOCKING," Swindle yelled in outraged disbelief. It was true. There were the nice neat words that declared the worst insult he had ever been given. Briefly, he considered disabling it and trying again, just out of spite, before changing his mind. No, obviously that avenue was off limits. A thought occurred to him, _If this experience is anything to go by, the Nulte residence must be an absolute Pit to make a sale to._ "I'm going to have to rethink everything," the Decepticon mumbled out loud, his processor already running a thousand terabytes a second concocting alternate approaches.


	10. Chapter 10

Confidence Game

Chapter 10: Third Strike

By: Mooncrossed

_Hey, folks! Sorry about the extra long wait. My computer caught a virus, but it's all better now! This chapter is dedicated to God (who healed the machine and helped me greatly), and to Weasel and my Dad (who gave me a lot of inspiration for this chapter). Thanks go out to Screamer's just a Screamer (Phone sales are annoying aren't they? Glad I made yah laugh), StoryMaker7 (You're welcome!), and Transformers123124 (Happy you are enjoying it!). As always, I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, jeeps, or the Demolition Derby. Enjoy! _

* * *

The next day began like all the previous ones. After spending a sleepless night, Swindle was trying to take a twenty minute power nap. Just as he finally drifted off into an exhausted sleep, the first anomaly occurred. Instead of arriving by jeep, Griff and Weasel slowly made their way to the Nulte residence on foot. This was followed by the steady approach of two frail looking Welsh teenagers named Phiona and Rona, with their eldest brother Brice. Then Salvador (a.k.a. Sal) came to the door, his rings and piercings glinting in the early morning haze, towing his demur little cousin, Amise. Next an elegant gothic beauty named Iris (Griff's sister), swished through the entrance in her purple and black attire. Not to be outdone, the final arrival was a roller-blading Harriet, who stated in her own demanding way exactly what she wanted. It was a testament to how exhausted the Transformer was, that he slept right through all of this.

At last he onlined weary sensors, only to become tense. Absolutely NO sound was invading his audios, not even the mockingbird's incessant call. He double checked to make sure… _Yes, everything appears to be working perfectly. So what would make me wake up now-_

"Weasel, I'm blaming you for this," a familiar voice hissed softly. The babble of voices behind her effectively masked those words, but Swindle heard her loud and clear.

"Hey, I'm sorry," whined a familiar blond. "It's not my fault Griff's Pop needed to borrow the jeep."

"And the fact that you so magnanimously invited all of them isn't," Cassidy grumbled in barely contained annoyance. Switching to a slightly nasal whine, she continued, "What's that? The bus broke down? No problem, I know somebody who'll be able to accommodate all your automotive needs." Breaking out of character, she hissed, "You owe me, big time!" Weasel wisely chose not to answer.

Swinging his visual sensors around, Swindle got his first glimpse of the task ahead of him. What came down the front walk was Cassidy, leading a lot of fleshies. Doing a quick head count, the 'Con felt like crying. _Oh, frag no! I can't transport that many! I'll burst at the seams!_ Determinedly desperate, the Decepticon accessed his systems. He still couldn't transform, opening and closing his doors was still out. Discarding his list of 'No Can Do,' he applied himself to the tricks that he was capable of. All the while his main goal was to avoid detection as a living organism while still having his own way. That was why the keys wouldn't unlock the door the first time, or the second, and predictably not on the third either.

A frown of consternation dominated Cass's features before a grin twitched to life. Studiously adopting a mourner's dour expression, she faced the large group of free loaders. "Oh, too bad guys… the door lock won't work." She sadly shook her head. "I guess you'll have to find a different ride."

Disappointed moans rose up from the small crowd. "Hey, Cass," Weasel suggested helpfully. "Maybe I could fix it. It would only take a min-" He let out a startled grunt when her elbow 'accidentally' made contact with his ribs. To the few who had noticed this semi-violent exchange, the brunet offered an expression of pure innocence.

All of the 'Con's smug thoughts of escaped the carpool from the Pit vanished when Sal shoved his way to the front. Digging into his back pocket for his tools, the punked out Latino flashed them a glinting smile, "No problem." Swindle stared at the crow bar, human sized lock-picks, and primitive electrical devices that were so familiar from his stay at Cassidy's job the day before. Should he allow this, or not!?! On one servo, they looked like torture tools, but on the other… any one of the little Pit-spawns might rat him out if they learned the truth. Nervously, he powered down. Within minutes all four doors were painfully forced wide open.

Deciding that the largest passengers would take the first available seats, the skinniest would squeeze in next, and the smallest would find room wherever they could, the organics all piled in. Swindle couldn't help but curse. Fleshies were sitting on top of fleshies. They squirmed against his windows, they pressed against his doors. There was even one on top of his luggage shelf in the back! The Cybertronian groaned and wondered if his undercarriage was about to scrape the ground. He felt bloated.

Cassidy wasn't faring much better. "HEY," she squawked when a sneaker nailed her in the back of the head. Glaring into the mess of faces and limbs in the back seat (and trying to ignore the armpit next to her chin), she yelled, "Ok, guys! This isn't a pleasure cruise! What I say goes! First off, I want you people to be wearing seatbelts!" She made eye contact with the group that had been gathered from Griff's apartment complex, before slowly facing the steering column. For a long heart pounding moment, she eyed the ignition; then reaching out with a trembling clammy hand, she turning the key. Thus, the trip to Detroit High School began.

_This is absolutely insane_, the huckster groused. Feeling the organics squirming around inside him like a brood of scavenger hatchlets, Swindle shuddered. Humans occupied every available space. Switching briefly to an internal view, all he could see were fleshlings crowding up to the ceiling. The 'Con-mech realized about then that his air intakes were overly fast and his fuel pump was cycling three times higher than normal. _I'm having a panic attack?!?! What am I, a sparkling?_ Deliberately, he focused on regulating his systems, and tried to look at this logically. Talk about a difficult task. Annoying human chatter was rising to a processor-aching level, and the wriggling… Swindle's seatbelts twitched and he barely repressed a shiver.

_I'm getting claustrophobic! Imagine it! Someone like me? _Windshield wipers twitched convulsively before his resolve hardened. _I am __not__ some fragging glitched up flyer, I'm a four-wheeler and proud of it!!!_ Normally, he'd use his ejection seats, but they were too clogged-up with bodies to function properly. Reviewing his other options, he endured another block of mounting tension. When a booted foot dug into a particularly vulnerable area of his interior, it was the last wire! Swindle had endured the sensation of seven organics in his back seat, and four crammed into his front, for a grand total of three minutes. Now he rebelled. His belt buckles, really the only weapon reasonably available to him, swung at the worst offender. "Ow," Brice exclaimed with an angered brogue. "Hey, who hit me."

"Not me," was the chorus of voices right back.

Picking another target, Swindle swung at the punk hunched over on the luggage well. "Ai! Ok, whoever put a welt in my leg is gonna get smacked," Sal declared, flashing a dark look at the six possible culprits below him. Clueless expressions gazed back. When Harriet and Iris experienced their own hard slap, it was pandemonium. Cassidy cringed, her wide brown eyes glued to the road with mounting terror. Quickly pulling into the gutter, she shut the engine off and devoted her full attention to the brawl in the back seat. "Yo! Quit it, or else," the brunet ordered. Since it was a non-listening audience, she handled the problem her own way: by diving into the fray herself. Griff looked on from the front seat in resignation, long used to Cassidy's favorite problem solving technique. The two Welsh girls sitting next to him looked on in disbelief.

Swindle squirmed and tilted uncomfortably. He yelped when two organics were shoved into his right back door, rocking him on his suspension. A hard fleshling skull slammed into his car roof making him jump. Not that anyone could hear him; the noise level alone could drown out an oil refinery. One thought was rapidly becoming clear to his addled processor, _Hitting them was a very bad idea!_ This was quickly followed by another passionate realization. _And I reeeallly hated carpooling!_ The grudge-match lasted for another ten minutes, inflicting numerous dents, pokes, stains and rips on an already damaged form. With a final thump that rattled his windows, victory was declared. Cassidy made her disheveled way back to the driver's seat. "Unbelievable," she groused in annoyance. "From this moment forward," she declared over her shoulder. "Anybody that wants to continue to travel in the Torture Car Express had better fork over cash! Ten bucks a head!"

When Swindle took off, it was without two of his passengers. Harriet could afford the fee, but her pride was on the line. Since she hadn't started the fight, she shouldn't have to pay! With a sniff, the pretty brunet skated her way toward the school, uncaring if she took a tardy slip. Amise focused large nervous brown eyes on the small dull green car as it coasted away. She could have sworn she'd seen one of the belts moving on it's own, writhing around like some kind of snake. Shuddering, she started on her own journey toward Detroit High. Maybe she was seeing things, maybe not, but when the car started moving by itself she knew it was time to leave.

Driving wasn't quite as bad as before, there was just the usual high congestion traffic. The teaming masses of Detroit's elderly and youthful crowded the sidewalks and streets. It was at the fifth such stop that Cassidy spotted him: the traffic cop. "Whoops," she exclaimed sitting up strait. "Okay guys, all excessive passengers need to duck down out of sight." As confused expressions dominated the car, she explained, "If that cop figures out we've got more people than seats, I'll be fined into the poor house! So at least two people need to duck down now!"

Everyone but the driver immediately looked at Weasel. The blond blinked in surprise, then scowled. "Heeey, why am I always the one elected for this kind of stuff? Just because I can wedge myself into a waste paper basket doesn't mean I enjoy it! Besides, everybody knows that the cop assigned to the school always has a nervous breakdown by Thursday. There's no way he'd notice something like…"

"GUYS," Cassidy yelled, as Samuels, the replacement schoolyard cop came into view. He was turning their direction! Her face grew pale with alarm.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Griff muttered, before taking the initiative and throwing his six foot five muscular body into the cramped space under the dashboard. Weasel let out a yelp as he was 'escorted' to the car floor by Salvador. The darker teenager was still more than a little convinced the blond was the one responsible for the mark on his leg, and was eager for an excuse to get even. Smoothly, they cruised past a cop who was a pale reflection of the man he was before. Yesterday, Samuels was a handsome officer fresh out of the academy, with a healthy tan, a ready smile, and a cheerful attitude. Today, he was pale and shaking, his eyes rapidly searching around for new threats. He'd already barely averted three multi-car pile-ups, fifteen traffic fatalities, and two 'misunderstandings' between some eighty year old punks and a group of high school jocks!

Sighing in relief, Cassidy tossed back, "Ok, guys! The coast is clear!" Only Weasel scrambled back into view, making sure to stay as far away from Salvador as the car allowed. Stopping for yet another knot of jaywalkers, she glanced back. "Guys?"

"That's ok," Griff called back. "I'm happy here."

"Yeah," Sal agreed from the car floor. "What if somebody saw us in this old junk-heap? I'd never live it down!"

"Amen, brother," Griff agreed.

Sticky wetness abruptly spattered all over his front console. "Hey, you made me spill my soda," Rona complained. The Decepticon heaved a sigh. Just one more crosswalk to go before he could get to that beautiful organic-free parking lot. In fact, Swindle was just being directed into the last parking space available when the final insult was delivered. "UGH! Who cut one," Phiona yelled. _Cut what_, he wondered, and then he smelled it. A disgusting mixture of methane and animal byproducts flooded Swindle's interior, making him choke. Teenagers poured out of the now stench ridden Mitsubishi in droves.

"Uck," Cassidy exclaimed, waving her hand in front of her nose. "Who was the jerk that was eating road kill?!?!"

"Ow, my eyes," Brice half jokingly complained. One of his younger sisters was clutching her nose for dear life, the other was checking her pure white lacy dress to make sure there were no stains from the spilled soft drink. None of them looked happy.

Griff coughed for a moment before offering his own opinion, "I hate to admit it, but I think that stink bomb smells worse than Weasel's lucky coat!" General agreement was expressed from the group at large despite the blonde's protests. They took off for their respective classes while making rapid plans to find alternative methods of getting home. Cassidy just prayed the smell would dissipate before she had to endure another trial by driving.

Before the last one was even out of the lot, Swindle was already rolling all four windows down. This particular mixture of gaseous compounds was enough to make his wipers water over. As he sat there, helpless to leave, desperately trying to fan the disgusting odor from his interrior, he only had one conclusion to make: "I don't CARE if my associates find out the situation I'm in!" Belt buckles began flapping in an attempt to speed the process of air removal along. "I don't care if I loose my reputation as the SLICKEST sales-mech in the galaxy! I don't even care if I have to hitchhike!" Accessing his HUD and pulling up his internal repair chart, he put 'long-range communications' as his top goal. Darkly, he vowed, "I'm getting the FRAG out of here tonight!"

* * *

_Elsewhere, in an undisclosed location…_

The cave was vast. It's tunnels stretched on for miles, and the ceiling was easily twice the height of a full grown Decepticon. In other words, the cavern was the perfect temporary lair for Lord Megatron. Sitting upon his solid reinforced metal throne, he brooded. He was well aware of what all his forces were doing, even the traitor Starscream. Static of thousands of human airwaves echoed within his helm, including police bands. What he was considering now, was of a mech that until now had been presumed offlined. Crimson optics glowed to life at the slight shuffle that barely whispered from the thick shadows. "Blitzwing, step forward."

Cherry red optics bled into existence before a slightly smaller mech slid into view. He was thin, with the long, powerful arms and legs, and the equally narrow wings that easily identified him as a flying model. However, the powerful cannon and missile launcher weighing down his torso also hinted at further talents. "Yes, Lord Megatron," he asked with cold dispassion as he knelt. His accent was fairly common for the younger generation of 'Cons. That of the outer rim of Cybertronian space where they'd been banished after the war… a commoner's tongue. "You summoned me?"

"It has recently come to my attention that a certain arms-dealer isn't as offlined as we thought," Megatron mused just as emotionlessly. Red optics focused on his subordinate with deadly intelligence. "Find him. Swindle owes the cause, either with the energy stopping device, or with his spark. Either way, he will pay."

Blitzwing's face twitched, before a truly frightening transformation took place. His head rotated within his helmet. The warlord, long used to such habits, didn't even blink. Rumor had it that they were the result of genetic experiments conducted by a race of aliens who had enslaved their kind long ago. No-mech could deny their usefulness now. This new visage snarled with unrestrained rage. "Zat little cheating waste of spare parts! I vill rip him to pieces!" Razor sharp talons, so much longer than a ground based mech, flashed out of servo fingertips with deadly speed. His face twisted around again, revealing yet another face. This one was crazed and broken mouthed, a jack-o-lantern of the night. "Ooh! Zis vill be fun!"

"NO," the Warlord commanded. Instantly, the triple-changer's face spun back to the one of chills and logic. "Give him the opportunity to make amends, and a reminder of why it is… foolish to displease me. If he cannot pay," Megatron trailed off darkly, his optics burning brighter than ever before. The mad-mech studied him for one long moment before smartly nodding. In silence he slipped from the throne room, and just barely heard the warlord finish his sentence. "With so few of us left… such a waste."

Blinking, The thin Decepticon considered the mission calculatingly. "Now let's see. If I vas Svindle, vhere vould I go?" He pondered the question, tapping a taloned finger to his chin. Crazed optics lit up the underground depths. Seconds later, a slick fighter-jet rocketed out of the secret entrance cackling wildly. Blitzwing was on the hunt.

* * *

_After the worlds longest school day…_

Slowly, a sea-mist-green Mitsubishi Gallant made it's limping way up North Vale Avenue. Swindle sagged thankfully as his parking break was activated by a fleshy foot. After his initial anger had died down, the 'Con-mech had had a moment to look at his situation. While it was true that his pride had been damaged to the point of making even him want to avenge his honor, it was hardly profitable. Sitting back on his tires, he contemplated the matter some more. If he left now, he could wave farewell to his all time best customer, Megatron. This would be bad for business… and his health. Unfortunately, he couldn't exactly hand over the time-piece either. Only Cassidy could find it in a reasonable amount of time; his sensors were too fragging weak for him to find it on his own.

Headlights flickered as he'd come back to the same old problem: How to convince that femme (without any witnesses), to do what he wanted. Considering the matter some more, the 'Con twitched a seatbelt buckle as a replacement for the myriad of other activities he'd be engaged in. Normally he'd be pacing, or tapping his claws, or tapping a pede. When Cassidy and Weasel at last made their way to his form for their journey home, Swindle had come to a conclusion. It was embarrassing, even messy, but he'd do it. He had to call for help.

Now that he'd just been parked in front of the Nulte residence, Swindle dithered on his decision. Only Weasel had shown up for the return ride home, the other organics had apparently found other methods of escape once the final bell rang. _Huh, so they do display intelligence after all_, Swindle reflected with tired amusement. A little of his natural good humor had returned since he had had seven and a half hours of uninterrupted recharge in the school parking lot. Watching both organics now leaving for their respective abodes, he thought, _I wonder…_ Warily, the huckster eyed the blond sneak thief. Weasel was racing toward his house intent on catching an action movie marathon, and was easily a block away by this point. Re-aiming his sensors, he saw that Cassidy had barely left the parkway in her exhausted march… and his door was still open.

Kali, the very happily pregnant cat, paused in her bathing to stare at an unusual sight. From her sprawled position upon the grassy front lawn of the Nulte property, she could see something gray slide out of the car door. It was long and flat, it's eel-like body moving with unerring accuracy for the teenager's leg. Feline fur stood on end as the 'not-a-snake' slithered closer. Metal glinted hard and bright at it's tip. It struck just as the human closed the car door. A muffled exclamation of pained surprise yelped from the Mitsubishi, and the belt writhed for a moment before growing limp. Completely oblivious, Cassidy continued to make her way across the lawn, up the walk, onto the porch, and into the house. Jade green feline eyes continued to stare at this new danger in her midst. She had been planning on taking a lengthy sunbath on top of the hood, but now… With casual trotting footfalls, Kali left for slightly less dangerous venues.

Shedding her backpack in the first room she came to, she reveled in the sensation of being sixty pounds lighter. "Hi, Mom," she greeted as she made her way to the kitchen for some water. Then she noticed something. "Hey, where's Pop?"

"Hmmm," asked her mother from the bathroom mirror. The woman was busy applying some unusually dramatic makeup.

"Pop…," she repeated. "Dad…," was the next prompt. "You know, the guy with the way too big pair of glasses and the adoration of all things Civil War related," Cassidy elaborated. "You know, whoever is usually passed out in the easy chair until dinnertime? Where did he go?"

Gina smirked at her daughter's exaggerations before assuming flawless disinterest. Carefully, she began applying eye-shadow. "Oh, I think Toby had an afternoon doctor's appointment. He tried to reschedule, but…" she shrugged sheepishly at her daughter before going back to her careful dabbing. Not quite registering Gina's more elegant than usual attire, Cassidy ducked back out of sight. Practically floating her way up the stairs, the short brunet got to her room and took a deep breath of freedom. Brown eyes lit up at the sight of an activity that she'd been forced to put off much longer than she'd anticipated, and she dove on it. She had a knife kit to sharpen.

* * *

_Half an hour later…_

Steel flashed and glinted in the hazy afternoon light. Cassidy's eyes narrowed and she sliced again. Her imaginary opponent was tricky, she'd give him that! Standing all alone in the backyard in ripped jeans and a t-shirt, the teenager practiced her fencing technique. Just for the fun of it, she added a villainous, over-the-top handlebar mustache to her foe. Hey, it was her bad-guy, she figured she had a right to make him as ridiculous as she wanted. Another sword thrust was barely deflected and she danced across the grass. She had finally managed to swipe her pop's wet stone and put it to good use. It was while she was sharpening her throwing knives that she'd gotten to thinking, 'What about my broadsword? That hasn't been used in a while…' Sure enough, it did need tending, as did her saber, and her fencing sword… About that point she'd realized, 'I haven't exercised these bad boys in months!'

That brought her to her current activity, dispatching imaginary foes. With a rapid flurry of slices and thrusts, she at last drove the man to his knees and was about to do him in. Then she paused, and rolled her eyes. "Oh, alright, I'll spare your pathetic life," she told the non-existent bad guy, whom she'd decided to call Bart. That was a nice villainous name, by her way of thinking. Withdrawing the deadly weapon to a neutral position, she gave one last warning. "But no more insults against my mother!" A smirk quirked up as she pictured Bart running off into the distance in terror, before she frowned. Things were always more fun with a real fencing partner. "God, I miss my brother," she sighed.

Her mood more melancholy, the brunet was just slipping the blade into it's sheath when Gina stepped out onto the back porch. "Cassidy, what are you doing out here? I've been looking for you for the past fifteen minutes! We have to go or we'll be late!"

"Go where," Cassidy asked. She eyed the stylish black pants suit the older woman was wearing in mystification. Normally her mother was as laid back as she was, unless she suddenly decided to go to Sunday service (taking place in church), a wedding (which would also take place in a church), a funeral (which, again would be in a church), or… Her eyes widened, "Wait, the party's today?"

"Yes! Now come on," her mother urged. Mrs. Nulte did have a job, it was just a little more unusual than most. In fact, she'd had to come up with her own title. She was part of the Anti-Dirty-Tricks-Organization (ADTO, for short). You see, in the average political campaign, there were people that specialized in making other people look bad. This was accomplished through blackmail, lies, and false accusations. Gina's specialty was counter measures: using equally scandalous tactics to insure a clean race to power. In an average year, she would be required to be any number of places, from a computer terminal in some out of the way office, to somebody's backyard in the middle of the night armed with a camera.

Or like today… Mayor Edsel's fund raising party. Mrs. Nulte raced back into the house, nervously pushing up hair that refused to stay in the fancy twist she'd put at the back of her head. "Oh… wouldn't you know it," Gina moaned, noticing a slight snag in her plans. "Your father took the van. We'll have to take you're car instead!"

Cassidy had just been carefully maneuvering three swords, a knife kit, and a heavy wet-stone in through the back door when she heard this and stopped in her tracks. "What? Mom, don't do this to me! All I have to do is a babysitting job for the guy's five year old kid!" These protests were studiously ignored by the hustling woman. Grumbling to herself, she put her Pop's wet-stone in it's place next to his favorite chair before chasing after her. "Mom! Taking the Torture Car could count as childhood endangerment!"

"Nonsense, dear! You won't be taking little Peter for a car drive," Mrs. Nulte breezed. She gave a surprise kiss to Cassidy's curly head, despite all the deadly implements the teenager held. Gina's mind was already made up. "Now put those away and come along! I'll bet I'm missing out on all the best gossip!" Horrified at the unexpected burden placed on her, Cass slowly obeyed.

"Yes," Swindle enthused softly. It was hard to pin down, but all the preliminary tests indicated it. His HUD informed him that the last few repairs would be completed by tonight, then he could blow this nasty little planetoid! All he had to do was remain hidden a little while longer… A bang sounded and Swindle swung his visual sensors around. Gina Nulte, her dark hair up in a stylish coif, shimmering jewelry adorning her wrists, and an elegant pantsuit showing off her figure, exited her home with eager strides. Cassidy, in jeans and sneakers with her curly hair on end, fought to keep up. Her duffle bag was slung over one shoulder, thumping against her back with each jogging step. They were also holding steaming platters of what he assumed was organic fuel. "Now remember," Mrs. Nulte began. "Peter is a very inquisitive little boy, so keep him away from the power chords, Yolanda's home gym, and the pool. We don't want a repeat of last time."

"Yeah, Mom," Cassidy answered. Yolanda was Mayor Edsel's extremely talkative wife. She and Gina Nulte, therefore, got along famously. Rattling and stumbling, the brunet made her way down to the dreaded Mitsubishi. Her camouflage style duffle bag swung forward at that moment, sending her face on a rapid collision course for the green car's rear bumper. "Oof!!!"

Gina rescued the cheese casserole dish from her before she could drop it. "Honestly Cassidy, why do you have to take that monstrosity with you? It's a babysitting job, not a world war!" Carefully, she set it down on the carpeted interior of the trunk next to the salad dish they were bringing.

"Hah," Cassidy laughed. "Shows what you know! That kid could turn a trip to the park into a killing spree. Did yah see what he did with the gardener's weed-wacker last month? And he was only four back then!" Walking like a pregnant lady, Cassidy swayed and lugged her gym survival bag to the back seat and silently gestured for the Torture Car's keys. Her mom tossed them over and she set about unlocking the door. "For your information, this sucker has just about everything I'll ever need! I've got a change of clothes, a spare workout uniform, a toothbrush… I've even got a first aid kit stuffed in there!" With a final shove, she got the monstrosity safely stowed in the back seat, ready for the work shift tomorrow. There was no way she was running the risk of another game of parking lot cleanup before work.

Rolling her eyes good naturedly, Gina headed over to the passenger side door. Then she waited. She cleared her throat, but Cassidy still didn't move. "Dear," she at last reminded. "This is your car, you should be driving it." Cassidy gave her a pleading look. Her mother shook her head and smiled sadly. "You need to drive more often or you'll never overcome your phobia. Remember, habit leads to…"

"Fatal crashes or high doctor's bills," Cassidy finished with her own opinion. She endured her mother's un-amused, slightly sympathetic gaze for a grand total of fifteen seconds before giving in. "Alright, fine," she sighed loudly. "So you want a cheap thrill? You know, swimming with the sharks is cheaper than today's gas prices. We could go do that instead?" This earned her nothing but laughter. Steeling her nerves, she climbed behind the wheel for the second time that day.

"Hey, Cassidy," Mrs. Nulte asked.

"Yeah, Mom," the girl gritted tightly as she adjusted the rearview mirror for the second time in ten seconds.

Overly casual, Gina gazed idly out the window, "How many Transformers does it take to pop popcorn?"

Not really listening too closely because she was carefully eying the roadway for possible fellow drivers, she answered, "I dunno."

"Two of them," she intoned. With a deadly serious expression, the woman commanded the nervous teenager's attention. "One to hold the pan over the stove, and the other to shake the house."

Cassidy blinked for a moment, trying to comprehend what her mother had said. The barely hidden twinkle in Mrs. Nulte's eyes was the final giveaway. Letting out a snort, the teenager rolled her eyes. "Lame, Mom. Very lame."

"Hey, it got you out of your self induced terror for at least a few seconds," Gina proudly answered. Noticing how her daughter's hands had begun to shake and how her skin had adopted a slightly unhealthy shade, she added. "And you know what they say. In order for a joke to work, it has to have at least a little basis in truth."

The giggle that came from the nervous seventeen year old was a little more forced this time. "Yeah. They do tend to be that clueless, don't they… Heh, can yah imagine what would happen if one showed up that was actually intelligent?"

Mrs. Nulte laughed, "Then we'd be in trouble."

Moving a little easier, the girl turned the wheel. Having something to laugh at really helped… kind of. She was still completely convinced that death by auto-accident could happen any second, and in a way her fears weren't unfounded. It was just that in Swindle's case, the possibility of death by car would be far from accidental.

Swindle was barely restraining himself from retaliating. He was dented, sore, stained with sticky organic beverages, and to top it all off, one of the serving dishes in his trunk was spilling something warm and oozing into his carpet. Add to that the anti-alien jokes, and it was all he could do to keep from launching both passenger and driver out of his alt-mode. The only thing preventing it was the fact that he still couldn't control his brake and gas pedals. As well, he needed to keep a low profile, he was well aware that the Autobots and Decepticons listened into the police scanner channels. This was a habit even he had gotten into. If the fleshies were stupid enough to broadcast all their activities on the airwaves, it meant that nobody had to expend anywhere near as much energy on patrols.

At long last, after many twisting roads, they arrived at their destination. As Cassidy climbed out of the Mitsubishi, she slowed down, and blinked at the rows of pointy eared sentries guarding the windows both upstairs and down. The feline population always shocked her whenever she visited the Mayor's residence. Some had even derisively nicknamed it 'The Cat-house.' She watched one overly large yellow tom drift lazily past the front door, his amber eyes never removing their glare. Shed fur hung in the air like a jet contrail behind the animal's bottlebrush tail, long after it had passed by. Blinking, the teenager asked, "Um… hey, if it gets too hairy in there, can I take him outside?"

"You'll have to ask Yolanda that dear," Gina answered absently as she pressed the doorbell with one overly long nail. The moment the wooden door opened, they were all Hollywood smiles. "Yolanda," her mother gushed. "So good to see you again; you're looking gorgeous, as always!"

Standing in the doorway was a woman only slightly taller than Cassidy, wearing shorts and a hot-pink sleeveless shirt. A long sunshine yellow braid of hair hung down almost to her knees, nicely complimenting a killer figure. The other woman brushed off the compliment with a scoff. "Liar, but thanks anyways." Without looking, she pushed one feline escapee back with a bare foot before it could sneak out the door. "Ugh, I'm just covered in cat hair! There's no escaping it! I'd turn the whole unruly lot of them out the door if I didn't love them so much!"

She noticed the teenaged pack-mule on her doorstep, and quirked up a slight smile. "You'll probably want to put those down some time soon. I would take them but… well…" She presented hands that looked like they could double as the wolf-man's, they were covered in so much fur. Glumly, Cass nodded. "Well," Yolanda began, gesturing to the interior of her massive home. "Shall we? I still have to take a shower, but I didn't want to leave my son around so much power equipment unsupervised. You understand?" The door closed, muffling any further conversation.

Gradually, Swindle let out the air he'd been holding for the past ten minutes. He'd come inches away from becoming a roadway fatality. "Is it my imagination, or are her driving skills getting worse? Where do these organics learn to drive, Demolition Derby?" Several minutes passed by while the Decepticon carefully stretched out overly tense struts and wires. Finally, he sagged, relatively back to normal. Grumbling to himself, it took him a moment to notice the witnesses…

Cats: there appeared to be hundreds of them! From every window blinked amber, green, and blue slanted eyes. And they were all staring at him! Little clawed paws and overly hairy tails wandered along past windows, tiny pink noses pressed against the glass. A sudden horrifying mental image of a living, purring, yowling fur coat of cats covering his form flashed across his optics.

Tensely, the 'Con ran a scan of the organic household he was parked in front of, before swallowing noisily. There were over twenty of the Pit spawned little things. His next scan was of the structure's exterior… he slumped. "Oh, good! No tiny swinging doors have been built for them." Just in case, Swindle set up an alert to warn him about any possible cats approaching his form. Why take any chances? And if they were stupid enough to use him for a berth, he had a nice handy weapon or two that needed to be tested! Besides, in a few scant hours, he'd be fully functional. Then he could do whatever he wanted. With that last comforting thought, Swindle decided to relax.


	11. Chapter 11

Confidence Game

Chapter 11: The Catch

By: Mooncrossed

_Hey guys, I hope you had a wonderful Easter! And as such, I'm dedicating this chapter to Jesus, because I never would have had the talent to write if it wasn't for Him. Thanks also go out to Screamer's just a Screamer; I guess Swindle would consider inventing organic repellant after that, huh? I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, or the Roadrunner cartoons. _

* * *

_In front of Mayor Edsel's fancy bungalow estate…_

Swindle sighed faintly, onlining his sensors and squinting through the rain. Yet more fleshies had arrived, the fifteenth vehicle this hour alone, and he was growing exasperated. These particular organics were wearing uniform black clothes, the male in a suit and tie, the female in a long draping garment that dragged the ground. They also carried platters of some sort of dry mixture- "Party mix: a snack food recipe commonly eaten at large get togethers. It consists of-" Ruthlessly, he shut off his search engine before it could give him any more inane information. Incessant water droplets showering his frame and grumbling to himself, he shifted on his tires. He did his best to fall back into recharge. As much energy had to be conserved for tonight as possible for when he was fully repaired.

Inside the Mayoral residence, the party was in full swing. Yolanda was wowing the crowd in the latest style of party dress (it was emerald green, and the skirt was made up of different panels of material cut diagonally). Gina was all smiles, working the crowd and gathering tons of juicy gossip. Mayor Edsel was content to stand in the back of the room and quietly sip his iced tea. He had come to the conclusion early on in his life that his voice was horrible to listen to, and no-one could convince him otherwise. That was why Yolanda did all the talking. She kept the press at bay, and read his speeches so winningly that the public adored them as a team. It was a perfect match.

* * *

_In an out of the way room of the Mayoral residence… _

Cassidy thumped into a sitting room that could be considered feline paradise. Slanted eyes blinked, pointed ears twitched, sinuous little bodies draped languidly in the overly warm air. The brunet squinted through the perpetual haze of airborne fur and could just barely make out the form of a little boy sitting on the floor. He was bigger than the last time she'd seen him. Myriad mechanical parts littered the rug in front of him, along with about fifteen feet of miniature train tracks. "Hey, Pete, remember me," she grinned.

A small serious five year old face looked up at her blankly. He studied her for a long moment through blue visor sunglasses, before going back to his monorail train set. "Nope."

"Terrific," she sighed dryly, blowing a particularly large fuzz ball aside in the process.. She'd been expecting something like this, but it still stung. 'Typical Pete,' she mused to herself. 'If it didn't have mechanical parts or complicated number patterns, the kid would forget yah ever existed.' Glancing quickly at Yolanda's home gym equipment, she sighed in relief. So far, it hadn't been dismantled. Sighing, she then began the arduous task of wading through ten feet of a furry haze to join him.

Eleven minutes later and Cassidy sat back. After the third electronic part she'd apparently broken beyond repair, he had ordered her to sit in the corner. 'It's not as if it's my fault,' Cass mused pouting. 'If it's that important, they shouldn't make it out of cheap plastic in the first place.' Peter was working furiously to correct a pair of crossed wires, his tongue poking out of his mouth. He batted away a fuzzy tail that momentarily obstructed his vision, not pausing in his work. Watching Pete having his own brand of fun, Cass forlornly mused, 'Babysitting sucks.' Idly, she gazed at the window up above, noticing absently that the sun was shining, before she perked up. "Hey, Pete! Thbbt-" she stopped to spit out a wad of orange striped fur that had drifted into her open mouth. "Let's go outside!" The five year old looked up at her in vague curiosity, a partially completed miniature monorail engine clutched in his pale little hands.

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

Swindle basked. Once the last of the party guests had arrived, the huckster had found himself completely alone. Then the clouds had lifted. He stretched luxuriously and shuttered his visual sensors. There was one thing that he could admit this little mud ball of a planet had that was in any way valuable: it was it's star. Not too hot, too far away, or too radio active. In other words, pure Heaven. Recharging here was as good as a top credit solar booth. It wasn't very often that he had the chance to just sit back and relax, even before this unfortunate turn of bad luck. Mostly, that was due to the fact that he was an unrepentant workaholic. If he wasn't commuting to his next client, he was working onboard his ship, pouring over the designs for a new sales item. But this? A sigh escaped his vents as the sun again shone down on his armor. Maybe he'd take a nap?

He was just dozing off into a light recharge when a rapid motion registered on his sensors. Instantly alert for the opportunity to try to manipulate Cassidy, he focused only to silently scoff. There went a little boy, clutching his monorail train set, running out into the road. Seconds later, Cassidy raced out after him shouting his name. _Huh_, he thought to himself. _Typical. These aliens don't seem to use what little sense they've been blessed with! You wouldn't see my species younglings pulling those kinds of stunts_. Turning off his visual sensors, Swindle assumed the interruptions were over, but they had only just begun.

"But couldn't I outrun a car," the little boy asked loudly, shoving his visor further up his nose. Huffing out a sigh, the Mitsubishi looked up at the two organics across the street. Peter gave his babysitter a studious look.

"Well, Pete, It's kind of like trying to outrun the roadrunner. You've seen those old cartoons, right?" She waited for his nod, before continuing. "Yah could try, but generally they move a lot faster than you."

_Slag, they're getting closer_, Swindle silently groaned.

"What about diving out of the way," the boy asked next.

Cass made a considering noise. "Yah could try, but I wouldn't chance it. What if it swerved?"

Little Peter contemplated the problem before voicing another option. "Hey! How about lying down? The tires would go on either side, and I'd be safe!" He gazed up at Cassidy, proud of his superior deductive skills, and Swindle felt like laughing.

_He's just too cute_, Swindle admitted, fighting to contain his laughter. _Probably won't make it past two more solar cycles, but still, adorable._ All good will vanished in the next instant at Cassidy's reply.

She had been seriously considering Peter's solution, before nodding decisively. "Pete, I want to show yah something," the teenager invited, leading her charge toward a certain dull green Mitsubishi Gallant. With a grand gesture, Cassidy declared, "Take a look under this car."

The Decepticon tensed. _Look UNDER ME?_ Normally, he wouldn't care, but he was trying to remain hidden in plain sight. Tensing on his tires, he watched the small organic crouch down and squint up in curiosity.

Clueless to the situation that was brewing, Cassidy continued. "Yah see how it's all lumpy under there?"

Wrinkling his nose, Peter nodded. He also wondered why the undercarriage of the car looked so much like a pair of massive metal legs, too. Much to the Decepticon's relief, Cassidy continued on before Peter could ask about that little design feature.

"If you're lying in the wrong place, you'll wind up with one terrific headache," she warned. The boy blinked owlishly behind his visor, trying to process this. "Something else that happens," Cassidy continued, "is sometimes the car panics and swerves. If he's directly above yah at the time, you'll wind up with way worse than tire tracks. Cars are kind of stupid that way."

Big blue eyes blinked at this new information before he shoved his equally blue visor back up his nose.

_That seems to be his favorite habit for when he's reached a new thought_, the Decepticon noted absently. _And LUMPY_, the huckster wondered indignantly. _My undercarriage is __highly__ attractive, thank you very much! These organics have no sense of taste._

"But cars don't decide what to do, it's the people that drive them," the boy logically thought out. He gave his babysitter a look of innocent realization. "So people are stupid," he concluded.

Cassidy smiled down at the little pocket nerd and proudly patted his back. "You're a smart kid, Pete. Don't let anybody say otherwise." Together, they walked back up the walk to Mayor Edsel's residence to gather the boys things. It was almost time for the party to wind down, anyway.

Once they were safely out of range, Swindle chuckled out loud. "Amen, fleshy! It took me vorns before I figured out that life's lesson." He felt vaguely impressed. The femme had twisted that conversation masterfully. Going from a lesson on road safety and onward to that? Obviously, he'd have to keep his guard up around her whenever he finally got her alone. Grumbling at all the difficulties inherent in such a simple task, he shut down his sensors and attempted his late afternoon nap.

Mrs. Nulte thanked and hugged her way out the door feeling extremely pleased with herself. Mayor Edsel's fundraising celebration was a roaring success. Cassidy limped after her, loaded down with more food than they had arrived with, which is what usually happened after one of the Edsel's potlucks. They hated to keep leftovers, so they often foisted it off on the guests. At last they made their way down the long driveway to the car that waited for them… the water spotted car. Gina slowed down and bit her lip. It was bad enough that the paintjob was the color of moldy cheese, now in certain angles it appeared to have polka-dots. She nodded decisively as she made up her mind. Turning to her daughter, who was just in the process of putting the last of the casserole dishes into the trunk, she suggested, "Cass, I hope you don't mind, but I just realized we need to make a few stops before we get home."

Amazingly, Swindle slept through the drive along the twisty streets of Detroit's richest residents. He even missed the stop off at the automotive store. It wasn't until the last unplanned shopping visit that the huckster at last onlined weary systems. The Con-mech woke up slightly groggy to find himself being driven once more. Doing his best to focus his sensors, he realized that this was a different place than he'd ever been before. Something cold and partially congealing sloshed over onto the carpeting in his trunk space causing him to shudder to full attention. "Ugh," was the spark felt passionate response. Immediately, the Cybertronian clammed up, wary of being discovered, only relaxing when it became obvious the two femmes in his front seats hadn't heard. _Where am I going? _Soon an odd structure loomed up ahead, a tall boxlike building with one whole wall missing, but the inside was pitch black. Upon the ground were conveyer belt tracks. As he ran scans, money was exchanged.

"Give it the works," Gina declared, smiling, as she removed the hors d'oeuvre tray, and other dishes. Her daughter glumly lugged out her massive duffle bag and shuffled to her side.

_The works_, he wondered silently. _Works on what?_ His sensor diagnostic hadn't finished yet, therefore the activity up ahead was still something of a mystery. He sharpened his visual sensors, trying to penetrate the wall of darkness that shrouded the structure he was pointed at. Barely visible, a long metal arm hung down, skeletal and menacing. It held something that was just beyond his sight range. Finally, his slowed down systems came back with an explanation that left him more than a little alarmed. Several drone robots resided within the fleshling made cavern, each of them holding what appeared to be weapons, and all of them pointed at him. A loud mechanical squawk split the air, and he began moving forward against his will… strait toward the darkness.

_They must have heard me_, Swindle realized in a state of panic. _That's it, it's some kind of organic made torture device!_ He recalled what the police had planned to do to him, dismantling him and selling his parts, and vented nervously. _No, there's no way I'm going down that easily._ Determined, he began accessing his systems. He'd blast the scrap out of the landscape and every organic for miles before they could offline him! By now, he was almost completely swallowed up by the strange building. Shadows encased his form from bumper to bumper. Just before he could raise his scatter gun, the first blast hit… of hot water. His horn honked at the surprisingly pleasant sensation, and he couldn't help the word that spilled from his vocalizer, "Huh?" This was followed by a blast of warm synthetic soap bubbles.

Then the arms came down… with scrub brushes! Purrs rose up from his engine at how wonderful it was, especially when they moved just right on his hood… "Ohhh, yeah…." Sagging on his tires as a rush of hot steam rose up, he gazed at the hot air blowers that were now lowered. They had weird rubber things attached to the ends. His curiosity didn't last for very long, though. The hot air immediately caused the uneven shaped rubber pieces to flap and slap against his armor with light thumps. "A massage," Swindle asked the universe in general, feeling dazed. With each well aimed thwack against his armor, he could feel his circuits loosen a bit more. It was pure heaven! He hadn't had one of these in deca-cycles, not since he'd followed a client into one of the top best gambling establishments in the quadrant to make an important sale. Hot wax cascaded over his form. "Ahhh."

By the time he came out on the squeaky conveyer belt, he was a purring, sagging, MESS of pure bliss. Then the human workers came. In a state of near twilight sleep, he experienced a thorough rubdown from top to bottom, while his interior got vacuumed and cleansed. He practically glowed! _I take back all the nasty things I've said about this species_, the huckster drowsily mused to himself. Shutting down his visual sensors to more clearly feel the cloth scrubbing his console, he amended, _Or at least, I would if I could recall the words._ Right now, the Decepticon was lucky if he could remember his own name. _Ooooh._ The serving dishes, now safely encased in a cardboard box, were placed in his trunk, and Cassidy's duffle bag was stowed in his back seat. Swindle didn't care what they did to him now! They could have pushed him off a cliff at this point, and it wouldn't have bothered him one bit. If a car could smile, he'd be doing it right then.

Arriving in front of the Nulte's Victorian home, he slowed to a gentle stop. With sleepy amusement, he watched the humans climb out and began transporting the food dishes into their home with ant-like efficiency. He sighed and stretched happily, shutting down his sensors. _Maybe humans have redeeming qualities, after all_, the Decepticon mused silently. Just as he was beginning to drift into the first comfortable recharge he'd ever had on this planet, a long length of cloth flowed gently over him, draping to the ground. Only one dispassionate thought entered his processor, _What are these glitch heads doing to me now?_ Sensors onlined to a world of synthetic white. He didn't have to wonder for long.

"Mom," Cassidy began in doubtful tones. "I appreciate the gesture, but giant flowers and pink kittens aren't really my thing when it comes to car-covers."

_Giant what, and pink what_, Swindle wondered incredulously. Hurriedly, he looked up whatever 'car-covers' were on the internet. Presented before his optics was a selection of hundreds of varieties for every sense of taste. Image after image flashed by of vehicular garments that reminded him more of death shrouds than anything else. Each one was more garish than the last.

"But it makes the car prettier," Gina insisted.

Within seconds, he'd located the 'car-blanket' that the fleshies were talking about and stared at the image in horror. Cartoon pink felines in tutus danced their way across a field of hippy inspired flowers. He felt the cloth that buried him get tugged here and there by fleshy hands, straitening it out. _I'm effectively blind, and I get to wear a pink kitten blanket. What is wrong with this woman?!? _In disbelief he continued to listen to this insane selling job.

"Yeeeah," Cassidy drawled, sounding just as unconvinced. "But, seriously, It's going to take me forever to get that thing off of the Torture Car whenever I need to use it."

"Oh, nonsense," the older woman brushed off the interjected logic like buzzing flies. "You'll get so used to putting it on and taking it off that it will be second nature to you. Besides, with this on, it won't bleach in the sunlight-"

"What sunlight," Cassidy questioned, looking up at a typical cloud strewn Detroit sky.

"And it will keep the bird spots from accumulating," Mrs. Nulte continued, blissfully ignoring her daughter's protests. She located and tugged out a long thick string with a blunt hook tied to the end. "Ok, sweetie, I want you to do this part. Just throw it under the car and I'll hook it in place on the other end. Once you've seen how easy it is, you'll understand my viewpoint. Come on…"

Sighing, the teenager obediently shuffled around to take her mother's place. Both string and hook were gathered, and Cassidy let it fly, only to have it returned to her with a harsh metallic clank. She pouted but gave it another go. Swindle winced as it ricocheted off his right front tire hard enough to sting. The next uneven throw dinged his undercarriage. It took six more attempts before the hook was safely latched onto the other end of the cloth and the car-cover was cinched in tight.

"There," a sweaty Gina declared proudly. She wiped her forehead. "Now we won't have to wash it anywhere near as often, and I won't have to look at that ugly green paintjob anymore."

Fuming, Swindle listened as the two fleshies wandered back up to their home. Wind rustled the plastic cloth around him and whistled beneath his undercarriage. "I feel like I'm in a body-bag," he growled softly. Calling up the advertising image of his car cover again, he shuddered. Then he imagined what would happen if the Autobots, or worse, some of Megatron's own discovered him with this stupid garment encasing his frame. He grimaced. _No, better to remain undiscovered than to be humiliated!_ A heavy splat landing on the plastic covering his roof courtesy of the mockingbird up above only marginally placated him. Still, even protection from that disgusting flesh creature wasn't enough to make up for the embarrassment. Calling up his repair charts, he studied the shifting number patterns with extreme intensity. "In six hours, I'll be able to transform, and the first thing I'm going to do is incinerate this slagging car-cover!"

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

Cass wandered into her dark bedroom feeling run-down. She had spent a fruitless afternoon trying to convince an overly scholarly kid to lighten up and have fun, only to be treated like an interesting zoo specimen in return. Casting her gaze across her room, she felt at least a slight margin of satisfaction. At least she'd finally organized her room. It could now feature in one of those decorator magazines, if she wanted.

Not bothering to turn on her light, she sloughed off her blue jeans and undergarments without removing her shirt. She was just feeling lazy enough to not retrieve a pair of pajamas. Her brown eyes bright, she surveyed the piles of stuff in her room. One gargantuan mound of debris was destined for charity. (She'd been building it up over the course of a decade.) The other pile was full of the things she'd planned to create, but hadn't gotten around to making yet. (Somehow, that bookcase hadn't magically built its-self yet.) Though, the true crowning achievement, had nothing to do with her cleaning skills.

With dramatic flair, she threw the curtains of her bay-window apart. Filthy suburban streets and yellow streetlights met her eyes. A crepe-myrtle tree wept pink blossoms down on the parkway, lines of cars clogged the curb, and light pollution obscured what should have been a panorama of stars. Distantly, the sound of a traffic jam filled the air, along with a multitude of people talking on their cell phones and sneering insults at anyone they didn't know. Cassidy breathed a deep, heartfelt sigh. She loved this window! Glancing down, she scooped up the discarded pair of pants before her nose wrinkled. It looked like one of the Mayor's cats had decided her jeans cuffs were the perfect bathroom! Rather than stink up her bedroom with cat urine, she tossed the offensive pair in her closet. Tomorrow was going to be wash day. Then, yawning, she climbed into bed and tucked herself in. What a day!

* * *

_Five hours and fifty-seven minutes later…_

The high-tech internal monitoring system blinked with a soft innocent light. Despite the aggravation of being treated like a pet canary, Swindle had still dozed off. It was kind of hard not to. Lack of stimuli led to extreme boredom. Oh, of coarse he'd fought it. He only had six hours left, that was practically nothing by Cybertronian standards. Still, he was pretty relaxed from that car wash and massage. _It was perfectly sinful_, he reflected pleasantly. _Especially the price! With those kinds of extravagant luxuries for such low prices, I could make a fortune… with low labor costs… and a full product line…_ Before the huckster knew it he was peacefully snoozing under his ultra-cute pink kitten car-blanket, visions of credits and riches beyond his wildest imaginings dancing through his processor.

Awakening from a relatively peaceful recharge, he was at first confused when all he could see was a sea of plastic. Then he remembered what had happened earlier that day, and was instantly on antsy treads. One glance at his self repair timetable confirmed it hadn't been his imagination; it was almost time! Most of the categories, ranging from force fields to tire rotation, stated they were fully functional. Only a rare few, such as rapid reflexes, and window control weren't filled in yet. There was truly only one thing he was interested in. In fact, all his calculations told him it would happen any minute now! With a final cheerful electronic ping to let him know, the transforming mechanism brightened to fully functional status. "At last," Swindle exclaimed.

A sound filled the air, one of singing gears and hundreds of electronic commands to complex systems. To anyone who had been around Cybertronians for any length of time, it was a familiar sound. Sadly, the sight wasn't. Rearing into the air like a psychedelic ghost, the shrouded Mitsubishi seized up in spasms when only one leg dropped free. "Yee-YOW!!!" Falling back into root-mode, the car sat shivering through the agony of overstrained gears and twisted wires. The only good thing from the experience was that the stupid belly string that held his car-cover on had snapped apart. Once he'd overcome the pain of overstressing systems that had been dormant for too long, he tried again.

This time, he was much slower. First both sides of the car fell free with an agonizing screech of metal, and the vehicle paused. Then, slowly, body armor shifted with a dull whine until the parts resembled a pair of massive armor clad legs. The car-cover, which until this point had valiantly held on, billowed limply to the pavement. It was ignored. Door panels unhooked with a loud pain filled pop and gradually flipped up then rotated. Fingers seemed to unfold out of the paneling inside, briefly flashing razor sharp blackened claws as they finished taking form. He now resembled a twisted industrial Picasso painting more than anything else. Next, the hood fell apart strait down the center in a clean slice, before the casing rotated until it was a very solid green painted chest. Swindle paused a moment to wipe the cleaning fluid that had spurted from his wipers at the pain of the entire procedure.

That part had been easy; he dreaded the next. Taking a last breath of organic laden air through his vents, he initiated the final command. Automatically, his visual sensors cut out and began transferring any and all energy to a new direction, his helm. He was effectively blind. This part was the most dangerous for a mech, hence why the entire process was usually so quick. It would be one of the worst disasters in his career if anyone caught him now! With a final hiss of hydraulics, his head gradually rose from the center of his shoulders and locked in place. Unusually large, bright purple optics onlined with sudden brilliance on a dim, gas lit street.

He took one step, and staggered to his knees with an electronic howl of agony. Error messages flashed across his field of vision, it took a moment to locate the problem. Two sections of armor plating in his leg joint, so unused to moving like they were supposed to, had overlapped. This had in turn severed half a dozen wires, which had set off a nasty jolt of electricity, which had lit a small fire… "Frag," he groaned, biting his lip plating. A couple of minutes later, his repair systems finally activated and tackled the problem. Swindle hissed as coolants doused the horrible burn of the electrical fire. Enduring the unfamiliar sensation of automatic repairs knitting the wires together one slow molecule at a time, he then winced when a light, quick-hardening plastic was sprayed over the bundle of nerves.

Groaning, he slowly rolled onto his aft. "Stupid," he muttered to himself. "Should have stretched first!" Putting actions to words, the sales-mech did exactly that. For the first, and most likely only time on North Vail Avenue, a giant went through a full calisthenics workout. Spreading his seven-foot-long legs out in front of himself, he gradually reached out to touch his pedes. Wires grew taught, joints groaned in protest, but it felt Oh So Good! Next, he twisted around at the waist with slow precision and held, feeling his circuits flex and twist just right. Swindle couldn't help the grateful moan that escaped his vocals. "Ooh!" Over the course of an hour, Swindle did everything from knee bends to over hand stretches. He even did a few transform-ups, such annoying exercises from his academy days, just to limber up.

At last he stood up strait and tall. He was a free mech, now all he needed was transportation. Purple optics glanced up at the night sky, and a wide smile formed. One small convenient satellite was making it's familiar lazy journey right over his position. A simple hack job, a little blending with current signals to mask his presence, and he was in! Going out into space was a very special signal that he had developed with a certain business partner of his. 'Well,' he mused. 'They weren't really partners, it was more like they occasionally traveled together for mutual profit.' More importantly, however, he knew where the mech was most likely to be. Patiently, he waited for his signal to be picked up. Optics brightened as he finally got the answer he was waiting for. "Knott, old buddy! How are you doing? I'm all ready for-" An uncharacteristic frown stole over his features when he was interrupted.

Deciding to put his newfound freedom to good use, Swindle began pacing. "What do you mean you can't pick me up," the 'Con demanded via com link. Striding down the narrow organic street with wide ponderous steps, he intently listening to the answer. "I don't care if the whole slagging Armada's on your tail fins! You need to get your thruster ridden aft down here now!" Aiming a glare toward the stars as if he could physically see the mech he was talking to, the 'Con-mech continued, "Because this species is driving me crazy, that's why." He kicked aside the kitten car-cover when the wind blew it his way. "Honestly, Knott, you don't know what I've been through." With growing annoyance, he listened as one of the few mechs he considered reliable gave him the runaround.

It was currently three o' five in the morning according to Swindle's chronometer, the only time when anyone on this planet left him alone. _Well, almost_, he mused as the dog on the corner started yapping fiercely while he walked by. Extending his claws to their full three and a half foot length, he lunged at the tiny white furred organic with a theatrical growl, and laughed when it ran away, yipping. Turning he began walking back down the street. "Sorry, Knott, I was dealing with the local wildlife. You were saying?"

Knott was somewhat unusual for many reasons, not least of which was his dialect. To an organic it would merely sound like so many whirrs and beeps; to the average Cybertronian, it was nearly incompressible. The huckster prided himself on being one of the few capable of understanding the language (and the fact that Knott transformed into a cargo ship was also a very useful feature.) He touched a servo to the side of his helm when a dose of static garbled a few words. "You're hiding," he clarified. "In an asteroid belt…," now he was skeptical. "So you can create enough interference to confuse the Elite Guard's sensors?" Now his voice was drier than the Sahara desert.

Rolling purple optics skyward, he listened as more 'static' obscured the line. "Hah," he derisively laughed, interrupting the string of poor excuses. "If you're in such a congested broadcast hole, old buddy, then answer me this: How are you even communicating with me?" He grinned when the mech on the other end stuttered for a bare instant, then smoothly segued into another excuse. Before he could get much further, Swindle slipped in, smoothing over bent wires. "Hey, hey, you don't have to do that with me, Knott! Out of all the mechs you know, I'm the last one that would criticize you over a detour or two. Often times, it's the unexpected customers that are the best sales! Let's say you give a rough estimation of the next time you'll be swinging by this sector instead?" His face plates superheated to a rosy glow upon hearing the answer. "FIVE VORNS?!?!"

Standing stock still on the empty street, Swindle silently counted until he could safely talk without wanting to rip a certain sentient Cybertronian cargo ship apart, plate by plate. Gritting his dentas, he inquired with tremulous patience, "May I ask why? You had no problems dropping me off…" His shoulders sagged upon hearing the answer, all his anger draining with it, and let out a sad chuckle. "Only you could get in that much trouble over one femme… Alright, I'll find my own way off this Pit forsaken planetoid… Yeah, same to you. Swindle out." Carefully backing his way out of Earth's satellite system, and warily on the look out for any Decepticon or Autobot listeners, he at last closed the connection. An approaching vehicle on the cross street up ahead pinged his sensor net, and he wincingly folded down with a loud creaking of parts until an ordinary, completely innocent Mitsubishi sat by the curb. 'Well,' he mused silently, 'Leaving is now impossible, which gives me only one real choice.'

Redirecting his sensors, he focused on the organic dwelling he'd been forced to call 'home' for the past five days. Cassidy was the only one who knew where that nifty little time-piece was. Therefore, she was the best bet toward obtaining it in the shortest amount of time. He mentally grimaced at this latest turn of events. Truly, it was the last thing he wanted. From all that he'd heard on the gossip lines, keeping a hostage sounded like a huge hassle. They had to be fed, and kept healthy, and properly intimidated to insure maximum obedience, not to mention all the outside factors. Most people didn't like it when one of their own was spirited away. Then there were all of the problems inherent with organic hostages, alone. "But, what else can I do," the car asked, heaving a put upon sigh.

Once his scans informed him that there were no other witnesses, he triggered his transformation sequence. It was just as painful as the last time. "Ooooh, Frag," he groaned as a particularly painful zap of electricity escaped from a protesting circuit in his back. He gritted his dentas through the repair process, not moving until the wire was safely coated again. With his first step, he almost cried out in agony when two armor plates in his torso didn't shift appropriately with the movement, giving him a severe wire cramp. Several minutes passed while he huffed out overheated air and allowed his self-repairs to operate. Taking a moment to stretch kinked systems, and squeezing his optics closed, he took a deep intake of cool night air. Now, at last, he turned to the task at hand.

Resolved to his fate, yet not liking it, he carefully stepped onto that ridiculous stretch of vegetation on the edge of the property. Swindle frowned when his pede sank down into the grassy soil three feet. The tree that had overshadowed him for the past week shivered pink blossoms behind him at the resulting artificial tremor. Hoping the sidewalk would be a little less messy, he instead discovered what a cheap grade of concrete it was when it cracked like an egg under his pede. He stayed still, waiting for someone to notice the startlingly loud gunshot-like sound of artificial rock getting crushed to dust. Not a soul stirred, not even the mockingbird. Letting out the air in his vents, he took another careful step. As he went, he considered how best to go about this. She was in the upstairs forward compartment of the organic structure, which was a stroke of luck. He'd have hated having to dig his way through half of the house.

With another carefully ponderous step, sparks spat painfully from his left hip making him flinch. Greed was rapidly overshadowing what few misgivings his conscious provided, and thoughts of self preservation finished the job. Exotic purple optics, which until this point had been a languid deep violet, suddenly brightened to an intense glowing lavender. Any mech that knew him would be running for the hills by this point; he was now officially in HARD-SELL-MODE. _After all_, he decided. _If I can't have the sales item, I can have the next best thing: the girl that knows where it is!_ It took four more agonizing steps before he was flush up against the side of the house. There, he paused a moment to rest, all the while eying the upstairs window that was just two feet higher than his optic level. A huff of air escaped his vents in exasperation. He hated being so short!

Taking a deep intake of air to prepare himself, he gradually rose up on the tips of his pedes, just barely getting a glimpse of the fleshy's room. As quickly as he could, he ran a scan, staying until the entire interior was mapped out on his processor. He dropped back down pained but triumphant. While he recovered, he considered his best possible approach toward catching the tiny organic. Since he wouldn't be able to see what he was doing, he boosted his audios to their limits to hear her instead. Then, keeping a complete computer-grid map of the room up above, Swindle raised one fisted servo, and struck!

* * *

_Cassidy's bedroom, __way__ too early in the morning…_

Curled up in her bed, the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood made Cassidy bolted strait up in wide awake disbelief. One entire wall of her bedroom was missing! In it's place was a huge, solid black… thing. It took a few moments to recognize that the slowly approaching object dominating her field of vision was actually a hand. A big metal hand… with claws. At that moment something far more distressing occurred to her sleep fogged brain; her most prized possession was officially no more. Now that she was thinking about it, the culprit could only be one kind of creature. She scowled. Some big robotic moron had shoved his fat fist through the one object that she'd slavishly blackmailed for three years to obtain, HER BAY WINDOW!

It was while she sat there in bed, fuming over the insult of broken glass, that another thought clicked in her head. That hand was reaching toward her! Adrenaline surged through her veins as she swiftly rolled to the floor and dove for the exit. Behind her, bed springs crunched and a metal four poster bed groaned as something otherworldly smashed down on the mattress with damaging force. She was already exiting post haste when the robot said otherwise. A thumb as big as her head slammed into the flimsy hollow-core door in front of her hard enough to punch a hole in it. Not pausing to argue, Cassidy tumbled backwards, landing on her feet with practiced ease… kind of. She really had to take that pile of junk to charity! Negotiating the doll house from when she was four, and the electronic game she'd busted when she was ten, she barely leaped out of the way again!

The huge black servo landed spider-like, the knuckles upraised with all five claws sinking through carpet and wood like it was cardboard. Wincing through the dry crash of demolished childhood toys, she searched frantically for other options. Somewhere outside, she heard some awfully familiar sounds, sort of a mixture of saxophone and overwrought electric guitar strings. If she wasn't so distracted, she would have devoted more attention to it. Unfortunately, right now she had bigger problems. Wriggling, she just barely made it under her broken bed, almost not fast enough. She swore she felt that last thud as an armored finger tried to pin down one bare leg. Warily, she watched the metal servo rise toward the ceiling, all the while concocting escape plan after escape plan. As ideas went, the idea she settled on was ludicrous, but it might just be crazy enough to work! Curling up on tense muscles, she prepared to make a run for it, strait toward the missing bay window. Hey, it was the only exit left, and the big lug would probably never expect it!

Whether by design or complete coincidence, the robot had a surprise as well. The giant servo hovering near the ceiling snapped it's claws with the echoing thunder normally reserved for a cannon blast. Cassidy screamed in agony at the deafening anvil-like sound of metal fingers striking thumb and palm, the shock of the noise making her bang her head on the frame of her hopelessly dented bed. Too fast for her to blink, her hiding place seemed to be swept away as if it didn't even exist, slamming into the only door. Grousing under her breath, her left ear ringing from the sonic abuse, the girl leaped to her feet, only to promptly fall back down.

Looking hurriedly around, the teenager realized she'd been betrayed, by a throw rug of all things! It was true. There was the perfectly innocent looking solitary textile her room had to offer, curled up around her sock clad feet. In disbelief Cassidy began trying to disentangle the carpet, but the alien had other ideas. A big black servo descended with majestic grace, and scooped her up, rug and all. "Oof," she exclaimed at the first jounce into the air. "Put me down yah bastard!" The black hand, and the robot attached to it didn't feel like answering. Another jostle, and she was cursing enough to make a sailor blush. "Why me," she demanded next, but yet again there was no response. Through one gap in the octagon shaped cloth, she saw the window ledge, or what was left of it, fly by.

Even more fiercely, she worked to untangle herself from her scratchy prison. Standing up was out of the question, the space she was in was too narrow. That only left one option. She almost… there! One bare leg stuck out of the hole like a weird solute, chilly open air caressing her skin. Her face turned cherry red. It was bad enough one of the giant aliens had invaded her bedroom, but did it have to happen on the night she was wearing a ratty old t-shirt and not much else?

Her stomach lurched as the world swayed forward one long step, followed by an aftershock of protesting earth. Cass winced even as she coiled carefully on her shoulders. Now her other foot poked out of the top of the top of her cloth prison. Another turn of the worlds biggest swing occurred, followed by a second aftershock. She gritted her teeth through the nauseating effect before bringing her elbows down as close to her head as she could manage, then slowly straitening her neck. This raised her just enough to work her hands down, she tensed… and did it!

Now she was doing a handstand inside a floor rug masquerading as a pouch! Cassidy dared Guinness Book to come up with something similar! More importantly, her bare legs could now bend at the knee and hook over the side. She bit her tongue at another dizzying sway and jarring thud. "Freaking bastard," was the heartfelt insult to the alien responsible. It was only then that she heard it. Maybe it was due to the deafening blast of a robot snapping his fingers; maybe it was concentrating on escaping that had distracted her too much to notice. None the less, now that it was relatively quiet, she was aware of loud banging noises, and familiar shouting coming from her now open-air bedroom.

"Mom? Pop?" At the sound of her voice, the yelling and slams grew louder. 'They must be trying to break in,' she mused before letting out a despairing chuckle. 'Good luck to that, there's a bed in the way now!' Carefully tensing her legs, she pulled herself up off the carpeted bottom of her prison, before an idea came to her. Hoping for a clearer head, she shouted, "MOM! Oof," she interrupted herself when her face smacked solidly against a wall of carpet. What was unmistakably a rug-burn now adorned her cheek. She spat out some lint and tried again. "HEY, MOM! ONE OF THOSE BIG UGLY ROBOTS OFF THE NEWS IS KIDNAPPING ME! CALL THE COPS!"

"Oh, for the love of Primus," the 'big ugly robot' groaned in exasperation. Grimacing at the volume, Swindle scowled down at the rough bundle of human in his right servo. Well, that complicated matters, and he'd only made it halfway across the lawn! Deciding there was no other option, he fell back into alt-mode, tossing his prize inside as he went. Mud and grass spewed out from under his tires, gouging the ground and leaving a nice little signature for any Cybertronians that chose to investigate. In seconds, he'd bounced over the curb and disappeared with a cloud of exhaust. "This operation is so fragged up, it's embarrassing," the sales-mech grumbled to himself, concentrating on the road.

Meanwhile, Cassidy finally succeeded in un-rumpling herself from the evil rug… to find herself in a CAR. If that wasn't alarming enough, it was a car that was moving on it's OWN! Mesmerized, she observed the gas pedal slowly rise up, followed by the descent of the break pedal. 'I'M IN A POSSESSED CAR,' she realized, starting to hyperventilate. The steering wheel up above rotated and she felt the vehicle lurch forward as the gas pedal sank down once again. 'Or wait,' she thought, trying to convince her sleep deprived brain to function properly. 'Didn't that blue robot say once on a talk show that they preferred looking like the locals?' He'd been laughing at the time, so everyone assumed it was weird alien humor, but maybe… With a sudden lunge, she dove like a madwoman and slammed her fists down on the break and gas pedals simultaneously.

Swindle jerked and spun wildly, feeling the fleshy slam into his steering column hard enough to dent him. He barely missed a pickup truck, before he wisely cut power to his alt-mode controls and internalized. It was then that he realized that the fleshy inside him was no longer moving. Cursing creatively, he slammed to a stop, and quickly ran a scan, then slumped at the results. Cassidy laid limply on his floorboards, a red mark adorning her forehead, out like a light.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _And there we have it, my first cliffhanger. (The author ducks behind her desk to avoid a thrown rotten tomato.) Ack! And I can see that it's effective! Guess I'd better get to typing the next chapter…_


	12. Chapter 12

Confidence Game

Chapter 12: Job Interview

By: Mooncrossed

_Six reviews!?!? (Author does a happy dance and accidentally breaks an antique.) Well, now that that's over, thanks Gbscientist for the compliment; to Screamer's just a Screamer (why shouldn't I mention you? You're a fun reviewer), Transformers123124 ('poor Cass' indeed, divine retribution can be embarrassingly accurate), to MrReviewerGuy (Welcome to the show, fix some popcorn and prepare to be entertained!), and to Thornwitch (Thanks for the review, I will take your advice under consideration.) This was a really tough chapter to get out, so I'm giving this one up to God. I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, or Toyota._

_Detroit City, 4:49 in the morning._

The large red and blue tractor-trailer sped along the road. Gradually, the massive ten-wheeler slowed to a halt at the head of a lineup of cars, and heaved a sigh through his vents. Red lights were so tedious. He'd just been making his weary way back into Detroit after a grueling three night journey two states away to check out a possible Decepticon. It turned out the suspect car had done nothing worse than infringe on a parking violation.

Now, here he was, stuck in traffic. Optimus felt like gritting his dentas when a certain yellow sub-compact with black racing stripes revved his engines impatiently and inched extra-close to his bumper. Opening up a com-channel, the Semi-truck groused, 'Bumblebee, quit hugging my aft! I'm having a bad day, and your tailgating is making it worse!'

'Alright, alright, sheesh! What bug crawled into your systems? I don't see why you're so grouchy anyway, we finally get to have some action!' Forgetting that he was supposed to blend in, the yellow car bounced in excitement. A deep diesel engine growling scant inches in front of him reminded Bumblebee of the original "request." Hurriedly, he scootched back, only to slam on his breaks. The green Toyota behind him had already nudged up too close for the Autobot to correct himself. With a loud angry horn honking from the driver behind him, he scootching forward again. If a car could appear sheepish, it was Bumblebee. 'Um… Boss 'Bot…'

A sigh gusted from Prime's vents. 'What is it, Bumblebee,' he sent back. It had been raining off and on all day long. He had hoped that they would have a respite once the sun set, but sadly, the chances didn't look good. Splats of water striking his windshield promised yet another downpour. With tired swipes, Optimus brushed them off using his windshield-wipers. Oh, how he longed for a good cycles rest! Anyone that had bothered to watch would have gotten the distinct impression that the massive vehicle was frowning.

Bumblebee was about to answer his leader's question, when a sleek black motorcycle abruptly cut out of another lineup of cars to settle comfortably in between lanes at the head of the line. 'Hey,' the sub-compact that was still pathetically wedged between vehicles squawked indignantly. 'Prowl, you cheater! You're supposed to uphold the law! Optimus, tell him to get back in line!'

Just barely tilting his head, the holographic police officer perched atop the living bike pm'd back, 'An organic youngling has been taken from her home by what are believed to be Decepticons for an unknown purpose. The sooner we arrive, the easier it will be to track them,' he answered pedantically. Smugly, he finished, 'Speed is of the essence.' As soon as the light changed, the motorcycle sped off at the head of the mass exodus. All except one lineup of traffic.

'Prime,' Bumblebee questioned. There was no response from the massive trailer. Horns began honking. "YO, PRIME," the sub-compact shouted out loud in Cybertronian. He lightly bumped the much larger mech's rear bumper.

"Huh? What?" With a startled roar, Optimus lurched forward. Using his processor quickly to assess the situation, the Autobot sped through the intersection. Bumblebee shot after him, tailgating again.

Hurriedly, the small scout darted around to the red semi-truck's passenger side. 'Were you recharging? Man, what is wrong with you lately. You're grouchy, recharging in weird places… It's almost like you're possessed by Ratchet.'

'What,' Optimus blurted. It took him a few clicks to realize what their resident conspiracy theorist was suggesting. When he did, he laughed out loud. 'No, Bee, I'm just tired. The last time I had any decent recharge was five days ago… Bumblebee?' A quick glance around located the hyper-active little 'Bot, two blocks away and getting farther. He was slipping in and out of traffic like a pro. Groaning, Optimus continued after him, beginning to regret issuing the order to remain incognito until they reached the crime scene.

It took five more blocks before they left the city proper. Buildings shrank in size, going from towering office buildings and massive apartment complexes to simple organic single family dwellings. They had now entered the suburbs. Optimus peered through the dark. Even from his alt-mode height, the organic dwellings were tiny, almost quaint structures of biodegradable material. Some were composed of rock, which was at least a little sturdier. He eyed a three story brick home, it's flimsy walls so easily damaged with the slightest accident, and inwardly frowned. Others were made of the same material they used to write on. He'd had enough encounters with paper to guess at the vast vulnerabilities in such constructs.

Turning one last block, he came upon a clogged intersection of flashing emergency lights and sirens. The police officer motioning for him to move on, changed his mind when the Semi-truck abruptly became bi-pedal and two stories tall. Optimus blinked from his new towering height. Humans scurried around like ants and police sirens spun rhythmically beneath dirty street lights. Slowly, the Autobot took one broad step forward. Prowl and Bumblebee had a simple task: investigate the crime scene. He, on the other servo, had Detroit's Police Captain to find. Blue optics scanned the small no-longer-peaceful neighborhood.

"Don't do anything stupid, Toby," the portly officer warned. "You're Dad sacrificed too much for yah to throw it all away now." Fanzone had known Toby's old man, both before and after his criminal career. He'd known old Caesar Nulte's son by association, and his grandkids after him. What he'd earned from this careful attention was respect. As officers went, he was honorable, even fair. What Caesar had proved, was that when a Nulte said he'd do something, even going strait, he meant it. The con-artist was always as good as his word.

Standing before Captain Fanzone, Toby was a man younger than him by about thirty years. His shoulders were stooped, weariness defined in every line of his body. Appearances, though, could be deceiving. The rage that ran behind the man's dark gaze could melt steel. He stood before the cop, a lean shadow of tense muscle. Captain Fanzone's face, normally an emotionless frown only a bulldog could love, softened slightly. Reaching out a large calloused hand, the cop gripped Mr. Nulte's shoulder and gruffly promised, "Don't worry Tob's. We'll get your daughter back." Both of them looked up sharply when the ground shuddered.

Optimus came up short as he was confronted by not one, but two glares. The Autobot was long used to the police captain's constant sour mood, but this individual was new. Red light off of one of the police cars reflected off the new organics glasses briefly, followed just as fleetingly by glowing blue. Prime felt a sudden chill at the sight, almost as if he was witnessing some sort of omen. 'What have I done to instill that much hostility,' he wondered.

Captain Fanzone considered the alien that most often complicated his life and grunted a hello. The other organic didn't say a word. Optimus shifted uncomfortably, his pedes gouging up the ground by another two feet. Still, the silence continued on. Considering the volatile situation that was brewing, Fanzone sighed before attempting the impossible task of rescuing Optimus Prime. "Eh… Optimus, this is Toby Nulte, the kidnap victim's father. Toby, this is-"

"I know who it is," the thin man interrupted. Brown eyes sized up the massive alien who was unknowingly crushing his neighbor's oleander bush. He wasn't impressed. In Toby's opinion, alien intelligence had a long way to go. Flicking a glance at the police captain, he gave a grim warning of his own, "Three days, Fizonni." The older man locked eyes with him as his name was pronounced the old way, the correct way. It was a gesture of respect, and a reminder from the people who knew everything about him. "Three days, before we're taking matters into our own hands." The two men studied one another for a beat, before Fanzone grimly nodded.

That was it, no further words were spoken, good or bad. Nulte just walked away without a backward glance at the towering visitor in their midst. Sighing in abrupt weariness, the police officer turned to regard Optimus. Pale blue optics shown down on him somewhere beyond the streetlight with a mixture of confusion and hurt feelings. Fanzone gritted his teeth. Really, he could handle the alien invasion so much easier if it wasn't so obvious they were all rookies. A sudden cacophony of electronic parts heralded in a new arrival of the alien contingent and Fanzone sighed.

Looking behind himself, and already feeling a headache coming on, he paused. There weren't any robots around. The rasping sound of transforming metal rang out again, making him look up. A small gray mockingbird sat nice and pretty in the branch of a nearby tree. It cocked it's head and fluffed it's feathers before repeating the alien noise. In slightly garbled Cybertronian it echoed a phrase it had heard many times over the past week: "Shut up you stupid bird! Shut up you stupid bird!" Ignoring both mech and human, it followed this up by the howl of a car alarm.

Officer Maxwell ignored the cop on the motorcycle that pulled to a stop nearby as he took a long swig from his water bottle. Times had changed in the five short years since he'd begun his career. Case in point, the usual calls that used to drag this many cops out to one place were riots. Not any more. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he turned his head to regard the fancy house across the street… the gutted house. The entire front façade had been ripped off of the top floor until it resembled his three year old kid's doll house more than a human structure. He glumly shook his head as he replaced the cap on his bottle, and was just turning to put it back in the squad car when he almost jumped out of his skin. A spindly scarecrow of a robot stood barely ten inches behind him, it's narrow head was easily tall enough to brush the power lines.

Instinctively, Maxwell reached for his weapon, only to find a hand as big as his body presented flat in front of his face. "That won't be necessary," the alien intoned with a crisp British accent not even looking at him. In seconds, the robot was gone, striding away with wide loping steps on legs narrower than lamp-poles. Sagging, the officer stared in disbelief. The fact that every one of it's movements had been performed with complete silence had been the most alarming. No wonder he hadn't heard it sneaking up on him.

Detective Katrina Moriarty methodically unrolled the crime scene tape around the stakes that had been pounded into the grass… or what was left of it anyway. The vast majority of the lawn was gouged up with industrial sized metal footprints and tire tracks. 'Heh, only in the twenty-first century could she write up that the perpetrator had a shoe size that measured four-feet long,' she reflected with gallows humor. An involuntary shriek escaped her lips, and she instinctively grasped for her side-arm when a giant metal face suddenly appeared right next to her. "What the H-"

Turning his thin skeletal face, Prowl regarded her, and Katrina repressed a shiver. The alien seemed to look 'through her' more than 'at her,' and the police officer had to restrain herself from just going ahead and shooting the creepy bastard. After a long tense silence of glowing blue optics and high adrenaline, the robot went back to whatever it was he was doing. Warily, she did the same. No need to start an interstellar incident over bad manners. Attempting to salvage the situation and perhaps make him seem a little more human, she tried to make conversation. She was firmly ignored. Doing her best to do likewise, she attempted to get back to work.

Crouched down, the ninja-Bot's body folded into itself as easily as a giant slinky, his face close to the ground so as to not miss a thing. Thruster heals were not present in the imprints, so he immediately discounted Starscream as the culprit. They also contained pede components that strongly suggested a ground-pounder, most likely an economy vehicle. He filed this away along with the information that this was one of the four remaining properties that contained vehicles purchased at the car auction. Logic suggested that the suspect responsible was most likely Swindle, but he wished to collect concrete proof first. Switching to a different focus, he observed the energy readings upon the soil. Every Cybertronian left an energy signature. This green residue immediately identified what kind: Decepticon.

His optics traced the deep pede-prints, beginning at the sidewalk, and methodically tracked their path up to the house. He tilted his helm. There was an unusual quality to the marks that immediately became obvious to him. The steps were uneven, even lurching in places. Twisting his lean form, he considered the street in front of the organic's home. Out there, the prints were even worse. It almost appeared as if the Decepticon had fallen a few times. Was it due to an injury… or something else? Filing this away as well, he turned his attention back to the gouged lawn, and changed focus yet again. This time, he searched for metal and paint fragments that might have sloughed off. 'In that regard, there were very few samples…except at the break-in,' Prowl noted, narrowly considering the second story hole in the wall thirty-three feet in front of him.

Katrina was just opening up a comm. frequency, when the robot on the other side of the cordoned off area leaped off the ground and right over her head. Everything happened in seconds, too fast for her to even start for her gun. It just seemed like one instant, the alien was there, the next, he was flying. Twisting, she stared in disbelief as the super skinny robot latched himself to the second story ledge of the vandalized house with his long thin fingers. With barely a whine of hydraulics, he hoisted himself inside.

"Moriarty," the voice of her partner buzzed through her radio. "Moriarty, do you read me?!?! Are you alright? I'm coming your way-"

Realizing she must have let out a surprised yell, Katrina quickly pressed the button. "No, no Harding! False alarm. One of those Transformers just freaked me out; he's weirder than most. Over."

Harding let out a relieved laugh as he slowed down from his high speed run. "You mean the tall thin one? I haven't had the chance to see him, but I hear he's a real heart-stopper. Over."

She grinned at Harding's sarcasm. Her partner always knew how to calm her down after a nasty encounter. "He is at that. Well, I'm getting back to work before Fanzone wallops me for slacking, and you do the same. Over."

"Heh. Yes, ma'am," Harding drawled back. "Over and out."

The lady cop put her radio back on her belt with a smile, before her thoughts were once again consumed with her job. She looked over her half finished investigation, noting Mister Creepy hadn't left a single footprint on those pencil thin feet. A frown stole over her features at the implications of a creature that big and powerful moving as quietly as a mouse, with no evidence of having been there. Taking out her camera, she spared one last glance toward where the mech had vanished, 'How nice of him to not mess up my investigation…' No-one noticed the innocently circling jet high up above, intently listening to every word.

Prowl slid into the room in a silent spindle legged crouch, his narrow face low to the ground, and his sharp elbows scant inches from scarring the ceiling. Instantly, he ran another scan. One glowing servo-print decorated the carpet between his pedes, the claw marks leaving gouges in the wood beneath. Carefully, he edged around the weakened flooring and continued scanning. Furniture and other belongings had been flung with rough force against the only door, effectively blocking escape. The green energy glow upon the objects was an easy tattletale as to who was responsible. He ignored the organics just beyond the blocked door, officers who were trying to force their way inside, in favor of continuing his own investigation. They would get in eventually, and couldn't possibly be of use to him at the present time. In fact, they would probably be a hindrance.

Spider crawling his way across the room, and being cautious enough to avoid damaging anything, he continued his scans. An odd pattern was upon the floor on the other side of the room. There was another servo-print, just like the first, except for one difference: there was a hole missing from the center. His narrow face lowered until he was almost touching the un-radiated section of carpeting. It was octagon shaped, and… he switched to a different frequency. A distinctive red image formed around the edges: one of organic legs and one outstretched human arm. He could even clearly make out the distinctive handprint upon the carpeting. Prowl tilted his narrow helm. So this was where the organic was taken from, most likely within a hollow box or a flat piece of textile. Filing the information away, he changed to a different frequency and resumed his search.

With a triumphant shout, officers finally removed the bedroom door they had been battling for the past fifteen minutes, only to stop up short. Spindle limbs and alien movements danced through what they had thought was an empty room. Some eyes widened while others narrowed. Prowl didn't bother speaking, still intent on his own work. After considering the gargantuan long limbed alien, the humans did likewise, warily edging around hands the size of wheelbarrows and hollow alien pedes. A man was already sending the call in on their unexpected guest. 'Not that it would do much good against the alien,' Officer Harding mused, ironically rolling his brown eyes. 'What could they possibly do? Tackle one leg and hope he lost his balance?' Snorting softly, the officer began exploring the crime scene, only pausing to politely wait until the Autobot had moved his fat foot before continuing through the room. 'See? He could be civil about this, unlike tall, dark and creepy…'

Just as the Autobot was nearing the end of his investigation, a new energy source registered, one that was powerful. He zeroed in on it immediately. It was faint, so scant that one with lesser programming might miss it, but it drew him none-the-less. An all-spark fragment? If the girl was in possession of such an object, it was understandable why the Decepticons would target her. But why take her alive? Carefully extending two narrow fingers toward the closet door, he pinched the delicate metal knob and twisted. A frown stole across his face in disappointment. The signature was weeks old, possibly even months. So she'd had it, but didn't anymore. Why would the Decepticons even bother? His CPU puzzled over this conundrum, picking up and discarding possibilities at lightning speed. Screeching metal on plaster siding made him abruptly grit his dentas.

"Hey, Prowl," a cheerful voice called out in English. A yellow and black helm poked in through the narrow organic doorway. "Whatcha doing," Bumblebee asked. "This house is so cool! Did you know they have a big screen TV, and this huge vid-library? They've got even more movies than I do!" He squeezed through the door, not even bothering to be careful. Organics cried out in outraged alarm as the door frame splintered apart around the yellow 'Bot's shoulders.

Wincing, Prowl admonished, "Bumblebee, a child has been kidnapped. Try to make yourself useful." Looking for more clues, the darker robot switched to normal vision and began exploring the contents of the little closet. Locating the object that had held the All-spark, Prowl swiftly scanned it. It was a garment the organics called trousers, and he could identify seven different kinds of residue… including animal lubricant that was most likely from a carnivore. Tossing it aside, he dug deeper.

"I am too helping," Bee protested loudly. He looked around at a world of twisted metal and broken childhood dreams, slightly distracted. "Sort of…" The yellow 'Bot trailed off as he picked up a hopelessly crushed teddy bear, stuffing spilling out of one eye. Dropping it, he scooped up what might have been a wall clock, or a wind up toy. Whatever it was, cogs and gears spilled out of it the instant his servos lifted it higher than five feet. Watching the primitive organic invention slowly spill to the ground again, Bumblebee lifted one optic ridge and sneered in disgust. "Well, this place is trashed. It looks even worse than my room!"

Gritting his dentas, Prowl answered, "Yes, that is what normally happens when a Decepticon comes calling." He picked up a stiffened length of cloth and animal hide that was carefully rolled up. It unfurled with a dry clinking of metal, and the ninja's optics lit up in surprise. Thirty knives with carefully sharpened blades glinted in the low light. They were clearly human in origin, and were the first example of organic weaponry he'd found outside of television. Scans showed that it had had extensive use judging by all the skin oils upon the cloth wrapped handles, the only part that hadn't been polished. Further scans showed a lack of blood, so it must have only been used in practice. A thought occurred to his processor and he made a quick scan of the rest of the closet. The results were gratifying: inside were two practice swords, a broadsword, a fencing saber, and a katana. "Fascinating…"

"Hey, Prowl," a slightly whiny, overly cheerful voice intruded. "What're yah doing?" Bumblebee tilted his yellow helm, clueless blued optics shining bright. A pair of organics were in the process of hauling some debris out of the room, so he obligingly got out of their way.

"Attempting to ascertain why the Decepticon's would have any interest in taking a lone organic from her dwelling," Prowl replied in calm, haughty tones. Optimus had ordered him to speak in English when around the locals, so as to breed friendlier relations. The ninja agreed to abide by those rules, his oath of loyalty demanded it. As such, he neglected to mention the all-spark energy reading he had located. No need to alert the police force; it was Autobot business.

Bumblebee rolled his optics at the ninja's words. "Hah! Like they ever need a reason?" The small Autobot scooted to the side to make way for a group of organics carrying forensic equipment. Continuing on, 'Bee jokingly added, "They probably just took her because they were bored… old Blitz-brain would do that in a spark-beat." Growing tired of the balancing act he had to maintain to allow the police room to do their jobs, he crab walked to the side and carefully lowered his aft onto an unoccupied section of carpet. It never occurred to him that there might be a very good reason for that. Blinking, he noticed the gorgeous sunrise that was just beginning to stain the sky pink. "You know," he began thoughtfully. "This place is actually pretty cool. Just patch up the wall, get some new furniture and a decent sound system… this place could be party central!" He didn't notice the ominous creaking noise, but Prowl did.

Pulling his head out of the tiny organic closet, Prowl yelled, "Bumblebee, look out. The floor is highly-" A loud crash sounded, followed by an all-encompassing cloud of dust. Police officers dove out of the way with shouts of alarm. Sighing, the ninja-Bot climbed to his pedes. Slowly, he half crawled to the brand-new hole in the floor and peered down. Bumblebee coughed dust out of his intakes and tilted his helm to sheepishly gaze back. "Well, um… It would make a nice balcony," he suggested, his face plates heating up. All around the yellow 'Bot, the shattered remains of a glass coffee table decorated the carpeting.

Putting a servo to his face in exasperation, the darker robot groaned. Why he had to have a co-worker like 'Bee was anyone's guess. Perhaps it was divine retribution for a past wrong? Deciding he'd better corral the youngling before anything else was destroyed, he swung down. He was finished with his investigation, anyway. As far as the kidnapping was concerned, he'd found only one possible reason the 'Con's might have. The girl didn't have the fragment… but she knew where it was. Knowing their enemies the way he did, he knew there was only a narrow window of time to find the girl before she was killed by her captor or captors. Decepticons had no moral imperatives in their programming to prevent such atrocities. Who knew what horrors the child was suffering from at this very moment?

_Meanwhile, somewhere on the other side of Detroit…_

Cassidy groaned at the feel of rough carpet under her cheek. 'Why is my bed so hard and lumpy?' She puzzled over this conundrum, unwilling to open her eyes due to the dull ache in her head. Finally drawing the conclusion that she must have fallen out of bed, she debated on whether she should fall asleep again. Judging by the light on the other side of her eyelids, the sun had only just come up. That meant she had a good forty minutes or so left of snooze time. Climbing back into bed always woke her up too much to fall asleep immediately…

Deciding the best coarse of action would be to continue to sleep where she was, she snuggled back down. The carpet wasn't that terrible, so what if it was scratchy? And the floor wasn't all bad either, even if it was uneven and hard. It was rumbling. Who needed an actual bed when you could get lulled to sleep by that deep mechanical purr? Another minute passed by before reality reared it's ugly head. 'Wait… the floor's not supposed to do that…'

Brown eyes snapped open to discover, horror of horrors, she was in a 'CAR!!!' She'd recognize a break pedal anywhere! Jerking up, her head accidentally bopped off the bottom of the steering wheel. Cassidy clutched her skull and winced. Now she had a bump on the front and the back of her head, and she was still in a CAR!!! Hyperventilating, she scrambled into the seat above and looked around frantically. Moving scenery didn't even catch her eyes. As far as she was concerned, she was trapped in a familiar nightmare, one where she was forced to DRIVE for all eternity!!! Her partially dressed state didn't even register. It was only when she was tugging futiley on the door handle, terrified of having to drive a CAR, that he spoke.

"Oh, good," a voice resounded with blaring good cheer. "You're awake!" Swindle winced when his door handle was jerked just a trifle too fiercely, but rallied his spirits and continued on. "Don't bother with the doors… they won't work for you. Hah, hah! Ahem… besides, I think we should get to KNOW one another don't you?" He was gratified when the organic at last looked in his direction with vague confusion.

The teenager blinked, at first confused about how the radio had turned on by itself. Had it been on this entire time, and she hadn't noticed? She blinked again when her eyes got too dry. Nope, she was pretty sure it had been off… and it didn't feel quite like a radio. Don't get her wrong, that advertising voice sounded as fake as a rubber nickel, but it usually came from the front of the car, not all around her. It was even under her butt. Maybe there were speakers? Just as she leaned down to look for those mysterious devices, her head throbbed. This was just enough to jog her memory of the night before. "Oh, yeah," Cass muttered to herself, "the robot." Feeling the lump on her forehead, she winced and wished that it had just been a dream.

"Yes," Swindle replied as if he was humoring an elderly Great Aunt. "Technically the polite term is Cybertronian. Just a SMALL helpful hint in the grand scheme of things. Oh, wait! WHERE are my manners," he exclaimed in warm self chastisement. "The name is SWINDLE! Pleased…"

"HOLY SMOKES!!! I'VE BEEN KIDNAPPED," Cassidy yelped in sudden realization. She stared at his front console, her gold flecked eyes so wide they looked about ready to pop out, and her hands gripping his seats hard enough to leave a mark.

Seatbelt buckles cringed at the sudden organic screech that was almost the right frequency to shatter glass. Quickly, he corrected himself before he could ram a drone vehicle in the next traffic lane before focusing inward once more. Wide, panicked eyes stared at him in open horror, as if he was the Unmaker himself. "…to meet you," the huckster resignedly finished. Hoping to dissuade her from convulsively digging those sharp little organic claws of hers any further into his upholstery, he soothed, "And kidnapping is such a harsh term. THINK of it more as an offer of employment."


	13. Chapter 13

Confidence Game

Chapter 13: Catch and Release

By: Mooncrossed

_Yes! Now the real fun can start! My thanks to Screamer (hope you don't mind my abbreviating your pen-name. I'm happy to know that you like the story… and I'm one of your favorites? That's wonderful!) I don't own Transformers, or Mitsubishi, this is just for fun, not profit. I'd like to thank my dad, who helped me through this chapter despite his busy work schedule._

"What," Cassidy inquired in groggy disbelief. Her skull throbbed and she held her aching forehead in growing confusion. The last thing she remembered was getting kidnapped by one of those giant aliens the news was always spouting off about. Then, somehow she wound up inside a car… and then everything went black. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make sense of everything. Maybe she'd hit her head a little too hard and was dreaming this entire situation up? That sing-song, 'too cheerful for the crack of dawn' voice, could not possibly be suggesting…

"You see, I have a JOB opening on hand that would be just PERFECT for an organic of your particular talents," Swindle continued merrily on.

Not really comprehending what she was being told, Cassidy looked around at her surroundings. Faded gray seat cushions and stained, equally gray paneling met her eyes. Cloudy Detroit sunlight revealed the inside of a perfectly ordinary car. It was just that voice… it was everywhere. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she did her best to get past the headache threatening to swallow her sense of reason whole. The funny thing was, this guy sounded awfully familiar… but for the life of her, she couldn't remember where she'd heard him before. Maybe it was off of TV?

"SO, as I was saying," the Con-mech painstakingly explained to his much anticipated guest. "All I REALLY want is a little help getting PLACES I couldn't possibly be ABLE to go! You can understand THAT, of course!"

The girl tensed as chair springs seamed to shrug convulsively under her butt. Edging away, she eyed the rambunctious car seat nervously. It was almost as if the vehicle was alive, but that was crazy… right? That was when all the windows darkened to pitch black. For a long tense moment, all that could be heard was the sound of her rapid paced breathing. Abruptly, the dome light flicked on, causing her to yelp in alarm. She could have sworn that that seatbelt had moved!

"Hah, hah," the voice laughed with practiced amusement. "SORRY about that. Some people just don't know HOW to mind their own business! NOW as I was saying…"

That seatbelt HAD moved, Cass realized, starting to hyperventilate. What kind of freaky place was this? Looking around, and feeling very small, she whimpered to the only other person that seemed to be nearby, "Um, where are you." A gust of warm air blew into her face, making her blink.

"But WAIT, that's not ALL, and…," the sleazy voice paused, registering that she had said something, finally. Swindle rapidly switched gears. "What was that," he purred with rapid pleasantness, coached to sound as if his entire existence revolved around a customer's every need.

"Where…," she began, only to trail off, her heart hammering, double time. The belt from the next seat over slithered out of it's housing like some kind of weird, artificial serpent, and reached unerringly in her direction.

"I'm right HERE, you silly little organic," the male voice laughed from all around her. "NOW, getting back to our deal, I'm MORE than willing to share in ANY monetary rewards of our little venture…"

Abruptly, the belt whipped through the air, and lassoed her. It didn't matter how hard she struggled, the thing had her! Twisting like mad, it pulled her into the seat cushion and drew taught. In bug eyed shock, she felt the possessed belt shift and twitch until it was squeezed in between her breasts. With a last tug it became inanimate again. Wildly fumbling, she undid the belt buckle and scrambled away. Sliding smoothly, it recoiled peacefully back into it's reel as if it was a perfectly ordinary seatbelt. She swallowed convulsively as her brown eyes flickered over every squared inch of her surroundings. The car was ALIVE!

Everywhere she focused, something was twitching, wriggling or pulsing. Flinching, she drew her hand back from a warmly throbbing door panel like she'd been burned. And through it all, that smarmy salesman refused to shut up! She couldn't get away from it! The voice was in front of her, it vibrated the flooring under her feet, and blared down from the ceiling. It was almost as if… Her eyes bugged out to the point of strained muscles. As if she was inside of a giant MOUTH!

At last, Swindle finished what he felt was the best sales job of his career. He'd taken care to only use simplistic words, she was organic after all, and he knew he'd been beyond convincing. _So my little five watt friend_, he smugly mused to himself as he changed focus to get a good look at the organic sitting in his front passenger seat, _Let's see how sold you are on the deal?_ For a long expectant moment, Swindle thought he had gotten through to the fleshling. _I knew it_, the 'Con smugly reflected to himself. _Just dangle the possibility of a significant amount of money and they-_ He broke off when Cassidy dove on the nearest door handle, jerking it for all she was worth and screaming out unintelligible nonsense. _-Completely fritz out in blind terror_, he resignedly finished.

"Now, HOLD on," he made a swipe with a belt for one of her sock clad feet, and just barely missed. "Frag! Sweetheart, I have no IDEA why you're so…," he trailed off, trying to find a flattering term. "EXCITED all of a sudden. Didn't we get PAST THIS?" Raising his voice, he hoped he could be heard above her screams, which made mating felines sound attractive by comparison. Windshield wipers flinched she started banging a fist against the glass of his left back door. His windows darkened still further. Of coarse, he had the best sound dampeners money could buy installed in his alt-mode, but it still paid to be cautious. They were now in high traffic areas and her face was plastered on every single news-vid this planetoid owned. He groaned as he was, yet again, ignored.

With bland disinterest, he watched her tumble, bounce, and slam against every available surface, screeching for help. _Heh_, he realized after a particularly piercing yelp. _This femme could compete with Starscream._ Doing his best to navigate commuter traffic at seven O' five in the morning, he decided to ignore her. _Maybe if I just let her be, she'll wear herself out, and THEN we can talk business…_ It was a forlorn hope. He had no idea that she had trained in the theater at her high school, and the Junior High before that, preparing for her career as an actress. She could go for hours! Even helpfully trying to fasten her seatbelt buckle for her again hadn't helped. Mentally rolling his optics skyward, he watched as she undid the safety restrain he'd so graciously fastened for her and move to another location of his alt-mode. Obviously this femme didn't understand ladylike behavior_. I didn't even get a 'thank you' for all my hard work to insure her safety, _he mused, feeling mildly disgruntled. _Ungrateful brat!_

So, it was a complete surprise when any and all noise and wild banging stopped! At first, Swindle wondered if she hadn't managed to shatter an audio receptor. He hadn't experienced true silence in so long that it was sort of hard to believe. Changing focus, the Con-mech confirmed what his preliminary scan had told him. She was still! There she sat in his back seat, curled up in a little fleshy ball, her arms wrapped around her knees and her face hidden. "Oh, GOOD," was his heartfelt exclamation. "Am I HAPPY you've managed to work THAT out of your system! Truly I am! Now, if we could JUST focus on the job I have lined UP for you, we-"

"Pants," Cass mumbled.

"-can conclude this WONDERFUL business transaction, and-" Swindle continued blithely along.

Cassidy shifted as a belt she hadn't realized she had been sitting on, writhed for a moment. With a quick scuttle, she removed herself further into the back seat, and lifted her head. Her face was as red as a cherry. "Um… excuse me…"

"-we'll both be RICH beyond our wildest dreams! And…" he paused in his sales job when he realized his audience of one had actually spoken. "Uh, did you SAY something, Kiddo?"

"Yah wouldn't happen to have any clothes in here… would yah," she hesitantly asked. Her face deepened to scarlet. It was freaky being inside of some robotic car/mouth, and even freakier when she'd looked down and realized she was still in her nightshirt. "Yah, could have mentioned that I wasn't dressed… Oh, God! I've flashed an extraterrestrial… and he's a kidnapper! Who knows how many times I've shown myself to-"

Before she could build herself up into another panic attack, the 'Con-mech hurriedly brought up his inventory. _Let's see… surface to air missiles… no. Doomsday devices, no. Hmmm…_ Faster than a human eye, he scrolled past several hundred items until he came across one particular object. It was a small (by his standards), cloth wrapped bundle of organic supplies that a certain fleshling of his acquaintance had left in his alt-mode the day before. In the smug tones of a showboating magician, he announced, "Miss Nulte… If you'd kindly direct your attention to the SEAT in front of you… I BELIEVE there is something that belongs to you waiting there."

Distrustful dark yellow organic eyes gave his radio a suspicious glance. His words curled like the richest cigarette smoke around her ears. "Come onnn," he soothed. "What's the harm? JUST one peek…"

Another long stare ensued. Swindle did his best to appear as innocent and harmless as a new-spark. His front console twinkled in a rainbow of enticing colors, his seatbelts waved playfully. He did everything but click and whirr. To his consternation, the organic's heartbeat and breathing increased tenfold. With rapid movements, she scootched back into the furthest corner. Before she could have another panic attack, he stopped any and all movements. Slowly, she uncurled and glanced around. Finally, creeping to her feet, she peered over the edge of the seat in front of her.

Cassidy's expression became puzzled, then suspicious. When she reached down and unzipped one side to reveal a familiar set of spare keys, she was annoyed. "Wait a minute," she exclaimed out loud. Taking a wild look over her shoulder, the teenager confirmed what she suddenly suspected. An ugly, stylized Kanji of the Japanese word for 'luck' stood out starkly on a nearly blackened window. "THE TORTURE CAR?"

Decepticon parts cringed at the accusing yell that reverberated off of his internals. "Such a CUTE nickname, but really, I prefer Swindle…"

Pinching the bridge of her nose in a vain effort to promote clear thinking, Cassidy interrupted the car's unending spiel, "Wait, wait, wait. You mean to tell me that you are the car my brother bought?" At his answering affirmative, she glared at his radio in disbelief. "Why didn't yah just take off? I would have done a victory dance in the street and blown kisses as yah drove away into the sunset!" In high annoyance, she jerked her emergency duffle bag over the seat. A moment spent digging around yielded a pair of obnoxious purple 'Fitness Guru' workout pants. There was a pair of blue jeans in there that weren't nearly as embarrassing, but Cass wanted to be dressed NOW. With jerky movements, she shoved first her right foot, then her left into the stretchy material.

"Weelll," the huckster wheedled. "I WOULD have, except for one tiny little problem." Noticing a thick lineup of traffic up ahead, he swerved into the turnout lane and slammed on his brakes scant inches away from a near collision. Horns honked from nearby drivers, and Swindle snorted, "Amateurs."

The momentum of a swiftly stopping car, coupled with the off kilter sit-up required toward putting on her pants in the backseat of a car, succeeded in making her clunk to the floor. Thankfully, she landed on her knees this time. Disheveled, but now dressed, she at last climbed back into view. Eying the car that just happened to be a robot, Cassidy warily asked, "And that problem would be?"

"My timepiece," Swindle patiently explained, yet again. "It's SMALL… cylindrical… attached to a chain…" Noting that a particularly nasty intersection of vehicles loomed near, he caught the human in a solid nylon grip and belted her in with one swift movement. _Hey, I'm getting better at this_, he reflected, feeling mildly pleased with himself.

Cass yelped at the sudden manhandling by Cybertronian seatbelt. Despite her best efforts at not remaining caught, she still found herself plastered to the seat behind her, and… Slowly gazing down, her face morphed into a disgusted scowl. 'Yup,' that nylon was right back between her boobs. Pervert! She blinked as his words swept to the forefront of her mind. "Wait a minute. That old pocket watch?"

"Bingo," Swindle warmly exclaimed, as if speaking to a five year old. "I would REALLY like it back… Do you know where it is?"

"Err," Cassidy hesitated, still keeping a wary eye on the seatbelt. "Why do you want it? I mean, what does it do?" Squirming, she began subtly tugging the strap up over her head. "It doesn't sound like anything you could use…," she continued out loud. "It's just a beat up old wind-up clock, right?" She winced when the belt in her grasp snapped loose and returned to it's favorite location. Now a pout dominated Cass's features. Her mind was finally beginning to function at close to normal. Oh, don't get her wrong, she'd still give her right arm for a cup of coffee, but she was beginning to see the big picture. This situation was going from bad to worse, and it was confirmed with the biggest fattest lie she had ever heard spoken.

"Wha…," the alien car began, surprised that his mark could string together a full sentence. Rapidly switching gears, he laid on the charm. "Why, of course it's just an ordinary EARTH made watch! Whatever gave you the IDEA that it was anything else?" Seatbelts twitched once in agitation, despite himself.

Not missing the emphasis on the word 'Earth,' Cassidy had also noticed the way the car's seatbelts had twitched right afterward. He was lying. That just left the question of what in the world that item she'd taken to the Townsend Hockshop really was, and more importantly, was it dangerous? She swallowed, her mind ticking over the possibilities. It could blow up the planet for all she knew! At last, she made up her mind, and in the biggest gamble of her life, she replied, "Yah can't have it." Her eyes flickered over an abruptly agitated vehicle

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I-," the 'Con mech growled, his windshield wipers flicking in disapproval, before, with an effort, modulating his vocals back to oily smoothness. "Sweetheart, if you MEAN that you don't have it on YOU, I'm well aware of that fact! I was THERE, after all. Really, I don't MIND that you've hidden it away somewhere. I understand, considering how pretty it looks, but I do NEED it. So, if you could JUST retrieve it for me, I'd be MORE than happy to-"

"Yah can't have it," Cassidy repeated. "Because I gave it to the government." Dead silence met her statement, not even an engine purr invaded the suddenly empty air. Swallowing nervously, she finished her lie, "It's out of my control." She licked suddenly dry lips and crossed her fingers behind her back. Would it work? Was the alien as stupid as he sounded?

_Four hours later…_

A loud rumble rose up that for once had nothing to do with a car engine. Cassidy, who was sitting in the front driver's seat, cringed and curled tighter. She'd never been the kind of girl who'd starve herself to look good like those wannabe supermodels at her high school. On the other hand, she'd always felt that if you couldn't work off the excess fat with day to day exercise, then you weren't really trying. Her stomach growled again, accompanied by a twinge of pain. "Oh, God," she moaned softly. "What I wouldn't do for some food." She firmly refused to acknowledge the seatbelt that had arrived with unerring accuracy between her breasts, again. Sighing, she crossed her arms over her chest.

Swindle, who had remained quiet up until this point, came alive with rallying enthusiasm. The front console lit up with a myriad of twinkling lights. "Weeelll, in that case, just TELL me where my pocket-watch is, and I'll be HAPPY to acquire as much fuel as you desire!"

She scowled at the dashboard of the living car, careful to touch as little of her surroundings as possible. "And I told you," she stated in an imitation of his sing-song persuasion. "I don't have it. The Feds have your STINKING watch!" Breaking out of character, she gazed out at the scenery as it flew by. "Why yah need one so badly, I'll never know," she murmured forlornly under her breath.

A snort of disbelief came from the Mitsubishi, before all the lights dimmed down again. He had deemed it safe to have his windows only mildly tinted after most of Detroit's organic population had finished their daily travel time to the office. By now, the roadways were quite manageable. _If this was Polyhex on Cybertron, I'd wonder why the city was deserted, _Swindle smugly reflected.

Quietude reigned for another five blocks before Cassidy's body decided to lodge another grumbling protest. She blushed at the loudness of it.

Cheerful alien lights twinkled to life again. "You know," Swindle began conversationally. "I have a HARD time believing you've got ANY government connections on this primitive little mud-ball of a planet. But HEY, just for kicks, I decided to have a LOOK around. Your computer defense networks are laughably easy to hack, and I NEEDED a hobby. Funny how there's no MENTION of a clock, or you anywhere around…"

The femme stubbornly remained silent, and the Decepticon sighed. _Obviously, this tactic isn't working, so it's time to go with a different plan to gain the fleshies cooperation. Now which one should I pick…_ Another of those weird, almost engine like growls from Cassidy interrupted his thoughts. _It's sort of odd… I've never heard of a fleshling capable of doing that, like some kind of weird alarm system._ Organic rumbling invaded his thinking again, and he figuratively gritted his dentas. _That's it! I'm not standing for anymore of this __annoying__ behavior_, he decided with sudden passion. He deviated course for an unlikely destination, plots and plans dominating his CPU.

_Ten minutes later…_

"Welcome to 'Burger-Bot' home to the biggest burger," droned a bored sounding voice. "May I take your order?" Cassidy jumped, abruptly jarred out of her musings. She hadn't been paying nearly as much attention to her surroundings as she should. Having to use her coffee deprived brain for nothing but devising her eventual escape from an alien vehicle tended to do that. With dawning hope she focused on the drive-through menu console just beyond her reach.

"Hi," she chirped, craning as far out of the car window as possessed seatbelts allowed. "Yeah, could you maybe HELP M- erk!" She choked as a particularly vicious tug yanked her back into the evil seat cushions. "I- I mean HOT! Yeah, do yah have any HOT choices?"

"We have a wide selection in the Burger-Bot menu," the guy on the other end answered, sounding as if he had just yawned. "Including our Double-Double Bot meal, which consists of an order of fries, a bacon cheese burger, plus milkshake, all mixed into one blender-ific bowl. Would you like to try it?"

Feeling her appetite fade away to nothing at that delightful description, Cassidy expression became lost in disgust. "Eugh… I think I'll pass." It was while she was racking her brains for some other way of telling the guy on the other end about what was really happening, that an idea struck. Gazing with wicked triumph in her eyes, she asked loudly, "What about you SWINDLE, would you like anything?" Her cheeky attempt to expose her kidnapper's non-vehicular status earned a solid thwap from a nearby belt buckle.

"I'm sorry," the ordering voice from the speaker sighed. "Did you request streusel? We have a wide variety of deserts made to order-"

"NOPE! Didn't say STREUSEL," Cassidy yelped as another belt buckle thumped with unerring accuracy across her unprotected back. Struggling to undo her very stubborn restraints, she at last succeeded. Then she dove for cover. As the attacking seatbelt came in for another crash landing, the teenager ducked and wriggled, trying to fight against alien supremacy. "Look," she struggled breathlessly. "Maybe it would be better if I came INSIDE the restaurant and ordered there?" With majestic grace, the long length of nylon soared around at high speed, before jerking to a stop, the buckle scant inches away from her nose. She gulped. Slowly, it rose until it was right between her eyes.

"YAH KNOW WHAT," she yelled out loud, "MAYBE NOT! ACTUALLY, I THINK I'LL STAY RIGHT HERE!" Nervously, she shrank down in her seat, never taking her eyes off of the evil belt-buckle. Sunlight reflected, bright and blinding off of the shiny metal tip as it followed her the whole way. If a belt could glare, she was sure that that's what it would be doing right now. "Yeah, yeah! Definitely not! I think I've figured out what I want to order after all!" Slowly, the long gray seatbelt drifted back, slithering into it's housing with snakelike efficiency. Paranoid, Cass watched it the entire time.

Turning to the menu board, she hurriedly placed her order, trying to insert as many subtle hints as possible about her current hostage status. They had to have heard her, they just had to! No-one could be stupid enough to miss the fact that she was a prisoner inside of a possessed car! That was when the entire Burger-Bot menu board flipped out of existence to be replaced with… a giant overly adorable robot head and arms. Bright yellow light bulb eyes blinked at her mindlessly. Opening and closing it's mouth with pre-programmed automation, it droned in that same bored voice, "Thank-you for ordering from Burger-Bot. That will be fourteen-fifty, please."

A moment later, it repeated that same atonal question, then another time, and another. Cassidy could only stare at the false beacon of hope presented before her. All that hard work, all those chances she took to get away from this grade-A creepy bastard, all for nothing! Abruptly the automaton stuttered uncontrollably, before a small panel opened in the center of the serving tray in it's pre-fabricated hands. "Please retrieve your order." Numbly, Cass gathered up the greasy paper sack and plastic cup that rose into view. With a low whirr, a long roll of white paper abruptly extended out of it's mouth like a weird fluttery tongue: the receipt. When she didn't take it, it cut off on it's own, blowing away in the breeze. Just like that, the adorable robotic mock-up rolled back out of sight.

Carefully withdrawing from the primitive computer, Swindle at last closed his hack job of the Burger-Bot drone. He didn't have any money… Well, he'd rephrase that, he didn't have any useless Earth currency, and he wasn't about to spend even a smidgen of his own hard won credits on such an expenditure as organic fuel… So, tricking the primitive pre-programmed drone into thinking he'd paid it, was really the only way to go. Rolling forward, the 'Con-mech decided to simply jounced over the curb rather than follow along their silly little path. With rapid acceleration, they were back in traffic. "Ungrateful little brat," he groused, once he'd deemed it safe enough to talk. "I take the time to ACQUIRRE fuel for you, and what do you do? Try to STAB me in the back! I'm tempted to SPANK you, despite the fact that it would pulverize your PATHETIC little fleshy body!"

Cassidy blinked, stunned silent while Swindle drove them off to wherever his computerized brain came up with. She gazed down at her as yet untouched Burger-Bot meal, consisting of one generic brown bag with a stick-figure drawing of a dancing robot on the front, and a soda drink with the company name plastered on the side. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Did… did you just threaten to spank me to death?" No answer was forthcoming from the crazy alien, who merely flicked on his turn signal before heading right at an intersection. Wide eyed, she observed the steering wheel spinning at the hands of an invisible driver before excess velocity pressed her into the seat cushions. Her gaze drifted back down to the calorie laden food. The idea seemed insane, ludicrous even. Trying to picture it in her mind almost made her laugh, before a sobering thought hit her. A transformer was probably the only kind of creature that could do it.

"If THAT'S the way you want to see things, then by ALL means, Kid, go ahead! Just SOUNDS like a pretty undignified way to go," Swindle at last answered. That last part was complete honesty. The organic was an absolutely neurotic brat, but he honestly couldn't picture himself doing something like that. Now stomping her, yeah, that held some appeal. He spent a blissful moment envisioning that lovely activity, before his determination to get the job done reasserted itself.

_Oh, well, back to business. And if __this__ is the threat that wins the sale, then I'll go with it._ The teenager sat very still in her seat, tension pouring off of her in waves. Fear was an ever present aroma courtesy of his passenger, along with the wafting scent of refried organic food. He opened a few vents to try to filter it out. Windows were not an option with this femme. _Any minute now_, Swindle anticipated, _she's gonna cave._ So, when her laughter began, it took him completely by surprise.

Giggling until she was hoarse, Cassidy nearly fell over. She had pictured that scandalous, horribly childish end, in all it's gory details, of course. Then, she'd imagined the moments afterwards. Snickers rose up despite her best efforts… and she was no longer on the car seat! How had that happened? Man, her ribs ached!

"WHY are you," Swindle began, only to immediately clam up. Did he really want an answer to such a strange reaction. She was organic, after all. Most fleshling extra-terrestrial species were rarely known for their logic. The femme just might short out his processor. Continuing to observe her as she rolled uncontrollably around on his interior carpet, he was thankful to realize that she'd probably missed his query completely. As it turned out, he should have known better.

Trying to catch her breath, Cassidy snorted as her imagination supplied even more humorous ammunition. 'I might just be getting hysterical,' she dimly realized, before attempting to think clearly enough to answer the alien's question. "I'm just picturing the look on St. Peter's face if I really bowed out of life like that," snicker, "It would probably be a first for him."

"HOW can you tell someone anything after you've OFFLINED," Swindle demanded. "You would simply go to the matrix… or WHEREVER it is fleshlings go." His search engine was already in hot pursuit for information before he could even stop it. The organic resumed her laughter.

Tears streaming down her face, Cassidy just couldn't get the image out of her head. 'So,' St. Peter would begin as he checked his clipboard. 'According to this, you were spanked to death…' Adjusting his spectacles, he would inquire, 'May I ask why?'

Looking abashed, Cassidy imagined hanging her head in shame and scuffing one sandaled foot against a wisp of cloud. 'I was being a baaaaad girl.' She fell into chortling at the imagined image. What a way to go!

Studying the convulsively shaking human, Swindle wondered if he'd accidentally broken her. He already knew she was glitched, which made using her all the more difficult. For the first time, he wished it had been her brother that had stayed behind instead. In Swindle's experience, the sane were far more predictable. _But_, sigh, _you work with the tools that are available._ "Oh, well," he finished out loud.

"'Oh, well,' what," Cassidy asked. Her amusement had finally started to peter out, thankfully. And her stomach was killing her. Finally deciding that cholesterol was better that starvation, the teenager shakily climbed back into her chair for the waiting Burger-Bot meal. Deciding to focus on the paper wrapped sandwich, she set the soda aside. At least she could identify most of the ingredients in a hamburger. One eyebrow rose at the orangish-reddish-whitish gunk dripping out of the side; she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Lifting up the top of the sandwich, she saw that everything inside of it was coated in the stuff. 'Ok, so maybe I can't recognize where all of it comes from, after all.' Another demanding growl rose up from her stomach. Sighing, she began eating it anyway.

At his first up close glimpse of fleshy style eating, the 'Con quickly averted his sensors feeling mildly ill. "Oh, well, to YOUR ever seeing any freedom," Swindle tossed back breezily, carefully masking his discomfort. He hadn't meant to say anything out loud. Obviously, the time he'd spent with non-working vocals had affected his thought patterns. He needed to watch that. The sound of organic teeth sinking into soft, gushy, meat byproducts made him shudder. Quickly he masked his discomfort with an exaggerated sigh and shrugged seatbelts, as if in unhappy acceptance. "I guess we'll be STUCK with one another indefinitely until your 'government friends' let go of that watch."

Was it her imagination, or were the seatbelts twitching every time she chewed? His words invaded her thinking, distracting her. Blinking at this new revelation, Cassidy, looked up from her careful observations. Trapped in a car for the rest of her life… Growing old in a car, sighting freedom, yet never tasting it… Forced to survive off of Burger-Bot meals and listen to cheesy sales pitches until she dropped dead of some malady or other…. That was a new level of Hell she'd never envisioned before. Glaring at the radio in front of her, she took another bite of the mystery burger, before reaching for the soda next to her.

"OF COURSE," Swindle abruptly joyfully blared, as if it was Christmas, his birthday, and payday all at once. He even hopped in excited glee on his suspension, sloshing the organic's soda. Now as mad as a wet hen, she glared daggers at the false car as she placed her half full drink back in it's cup holder. The Decepticon shuddered in disgust at the feel of sugary sweet liquid dribbling onto his center console and soaking into his upholstery. It took extreme determination to regain his verbal smile. _Clumsy, disgusting organic… _"We could SPEED things up if you just happened to know where it is. THEN you could go wherever you want, and I could go wherever I want… never to SEE each other again…" His sigh this time was one of exaggerated longing.

Doing her best to mop up the sticky mess on her clothes, courtesy of one overly jittery car, she slowly raised her eyes to consider the dashboard. It was weird not to have a face to focus on when she was talking to someone. She could have treated this like one of those conference calls that her boss occasionally set up when the company manager wanted to praise their work without having to pay the air-fair to tell them in person. With a yelp, she jumped when a belt twitched and wriggled under her butt like some kind of eel, practically bending over backwards to avoid it. In seeming retaliation, it looped up and around her, lassoing her safely in place.

She scowled, feeling the strap snugly settle into it's favorite spot, cleavage central. Crossing her arms to keep it from twitching (A forlorn hope), she sighed. As she was saying, she could have, if the car wasn't so alarmingly, annoyingly alive! Frowning, she finished off the last of the Burger-Bot hamburger with congealing mystery sauce. Setting aside the wrapper, she then began rooting through her duffle bag. There had to be a water bottle around here somewhere to wash away the taste.

"To be honest," Cassidy began conversationally, all the while doing her best to mask her discomfort. "That threat, while good, has several major flaws. For one thing, do you understand how much effort it takes to look after a human?" She paused in her search to give his front console an exaggerated expression of shock. "Why, I could cause all sorts of messes in here! I'd also need to eat regularly and get plenty of exercise… Surely you've got better things to do with your time." Crossing her fingers, she prayed that that would work.

"Or I could avoid MOST of the hassle and wait for you to GIVE UP in exchange for fuel and freedom," the Decepticon blithely countered. Frankly, he'd been intrigued by the odd blackmail games the Nulte siblings routinely played. Swindle had even wondered how he'd fare at it, though he'd never dreamed of having the opportunity to try. Apparently, he'd have his chance at it after all.

"Hmmm," the brunet hummed speculatively as she considered the ceiling. On the surface, she was as cool as a cucumber, but on the inside, she was sweating bullets. If this was versus her brother or her parents, she'd have no problems, but against one of these giant alien death machines? He'd easily be able to make good on any threats he suggested. 'Come on, Cass,' she urged herself. 'Use your brain!' She decided to speak out loud to keep herself focused. "A delirious half starved lackey that's missing most of her brain functions… HEY, everyone wants somebody like that working for them," a bystander on the nearby sidewalk caught her eye, and she grinned. "In FACT, I can see one now! It's your lucky day, Pal! Yah don't even have to wait for this one," she exclaimed. Unbuckling her extremely lively seatbelt, she waved enthusiastically at an elderly drunk sitting by the side of the road. The homeless man blinked confusedly at the driverless car with the teenager in the passenger seat as it sped past. Taking a good solid look at his beer bottle, he considered pouring it out, then shrugged and took a swig, anyway. What did he care if he hallucinated again?

"Awww," Cassidy pouted at the lost opportunity. "Yah missed him…"

"Levity aside," Swindle smoothly continued. "The fact remains that I can last a lot longer than you. I mean, HAH, HAH, the longest you're kind ever live is a mere eighty YEARS! It's ridiculous!"

One skeptical eyebrow rose on Cassidy's face. "Should I be addressing you as 'Sir?'"

"Swindle's fine. But seriously, I could KEEP you here indefinitely! You'd age and WASTE away to nothing, and it would BARELY be an optic blink for me. So, detaining you doesn't really CRAMP my style."

"Yeah, yeah," the teenager scoffed, waving a hand. "You're as old as the hills and twice as dusty. I get it." A slight smile quirked up at his sputtering. "And speaking of aging, do you realize how awful that smells? The stench never leaves." An engine grumble interrupted her, possibly by accident but she doubted it. She still needed that all-important caffeine rush, though. So, taking a chance, she picked up the (until now) neglected soda and took a sip. "Ugh!" Her nose wrinkled and she quickly spat the disgusting sugary mixture back into the cup. Setting it aside, she devoted a solid chunk of time to attempting to wash the taste away with bottled water.

"Why, WHAT is wrong with your drink," the sales mech asked.

Pausing, she took a moment to wipe her mouth on one of the paper napkins fast food restaurants always provided that could never properly clean anything. Scowling, the teenager complained, "It tastes like plastic!"

"Oh, good," was the warm slightly electronic sounding response. "I was afraid it might have been BAD for you… Well, go on, drink up!" Missing the incredulous look on his passenger's face, the Decepticon devoted his attention to traffic.

**Author's note:** _It occurred to me after I'd written this that 'Swindle and the Perverted Seatbelts' would be a GREAT name for a rock band… What do you think? Grin._


	14. Chapter 14

Confidence Game

Chapter 14: Stretching the Boundaries

By: Mooncrossed

_Hi, folks! Hope you had a good holiday. To Daoi Sidhe, thanks for the compliment, (I'm sure Swindle is happy that he has one more person rooting for him.) And to Screamer… (Oops! I had no idea that that would be distracting. I'm not making any promises that I'll stop, but I will reduce the number of times I underline or capitalize, and I will watch my question marks as well. Also, thanks for the offer of becoming an editor, but I'm going to have to turn you down. Storytelling is sort of a local community sport; I'd have a lot of insulted relatives and friends if I didn't give each chapter to them to proof read. Thanks, though.) I don't own Plasma Screen Television, Transformers, General Motors Pontiac, or Mitsubishi products._

_In a rarely used warehouse district in Detroit…_

Dim organic made florescent lighting flickered over a bare concrete room. Long abandoned conveyer belts and primitive machinery rested dusty and unused in various areas of what used to be an automotive assembly plant. Now it was being occupied by something far more unusual. The eleven foot high stone couch and coffee table were enough evidence of that. Although it was primitive, a rather small six-foot tall plasma screen television hung against the wall. There wasn't much, but considering the fact that the residents had been there for a little over an Earth year, it was amazing they'd gotten this far!

"Ok, I've split the search area up into five equal portions," Optimus announced. Standing around him were his troops… well, they were sort of soldiers… at least Ratchet had served in the military before. The old war veteran stood half dozing in the background, as grumpy as ever. Sadly, most of their number were dropouts. They were gathered together in the main 'living room' of their adopted base, in other words the section with the most space. An enlarged map was spread out over the ten foot concrete coffee table, which they were all studying. Prime winced when an overly loud cheer rose up from the equally massive concrete couch. _Correction_, he silently groused, pinching the space between his optics, _Everyone but Bumblebee._

The yellow 'Bot couldn't be happier, or more oblivious of his leader's growing ire. Who cared about that when the playoffs were just starting? Yep, nothing short of a Decepticon attack could tear him away from this! His optics glowed a little brighter as the organics in the green shirts rushed after an organic in an orange shirt that was holding the little squashed brown ball. With an audio shattering grunt, they collided and- An abrupt click interrupted, and the screen went black. "WHAT," Bumblebee exclaimed in horror. Looking around wildly, he spotted his much coveted television controller… held captive in a solid metal fist. Judging from Optimus' expression, he wasn't planning on giving it back anytime soon. Slumping in defeat, the youngling pouted at the oil stained ground.

"As I was saying," Prime continued, "There is a frightened organic youngling that has been kidnapped by the Decepticons! I'd appreciate it if we all tried to take it seriously." A barely felt tap distractingly clanging against his left pede made him stutter to a stop. Turning his head, he glanced down. Near the ground, a small nine year old child stood glaring at him… and her hands were on her hips. _Slag!_ Clearing his vocal-processor, he inquired as politely as possible, "Yes, Sari? Would you like to say something?"

Their base was unusual for one major reason. Most Autobots, if they lived on a planet that already contained sentient aliens, tended to try to stay separate from them as much as possible. This was especially true if that species happened to be organic in nature due to a fear of contamination. No Autobot in their right mind would ever consider living with one, let alone unofficially adopting it into their ranks. Sarita 'Sari' Sumdac looked, if possible, even more disgruntled. _Honestly_, the Autobot leader silently groaned. _She's been living with us for nearly a year. Shouldn't we have gotten used to one another by now?_

Holding up a single glossy photograph, the pig-tailed red-head scowled. "Guys, does this look like a kid my age to you? She's practically an adult!"

Optimus blinked as he brought up the information he'd downloaded from the police reports. "It says here that she's seventeen Earth years old. That's not very long…" Gazing down at a silently fuming human and sounding a little lame, he asked, "Isn't it?" Before Sari could begin her tired old complaints about the insensitivity of the aliens around her, a certain immature Autobot interrupted.

"Wait, wait, wait! I know this, it was in a movie once! Come on, think… Aaargh!" Bumblebee abruptly gripped his sensory horns in what looked like pain. All optics were instantly on him as he seemed to go through what looked like a terrible migraine… or else he'd developed psychic abilities. Ratchet was about ready to scan him, when the manic yellow 'Bot abruptly sprang to life. "THAT'S IT!" Sari jumped with the loudness of his shout, and backed away when he aimed feverishly glowing optics her way. "She's seventeen! That means she's a teen-ager," his vocals stumbled over the odd foreign word. "So she's into shopping and kissing boys!" Smiling proudly, he lazed back with his servos behind his helm.

"Um…," Sari hesitated as she held the single identifying photograph up to the light. "Somehow, I doubt that those are her favorite activities, Bee."

"Huh," the yellow Autobot grunted, sounding startled. Feeling slightly miffed that his hard won knowledge of Human culture was being questioned, he craned his neck to see the tiny photograph that the girl was holding up. He squinted. In the image was a girl… dressed in grunge jeans, smeared with dirt, and holding a bicycle helmet. In the background stood the remains of a hopelessly dented mountain bike. She was grinning for all she was worth.

Groaning, Optimus massaged his sensor horns. His optical lenses were crusty with a lack of recharge, his joints ached from a particularly nasty fight with Starscream, and he was now experiencing the beginning stages of a processor ache. What a lovely way to cap off the day! Before Bumblebee and Sari could change their debate into an argument, he interrupted them. "LOOK," he shouted slamming a servo onto the concrete table. "It doesn't matter how old she is! The fact that she's a prisoner of the Decepticons and needs to be rescued SHOULD be enough!" Optics blinked all around in stunned amazement. Venting out a harsh sigh, Optimus turned and stalked out of the room with wide heavy strides.

Silently, the remaining 'Bots and one lone human puzzled over Prime's odd behavior. Ratchet sighed, suspecting their young leader was pushing himself too hard… again. He hated to have to pull medical rank, but if Prime put himself in any further danger, he would. His processor became consumed with dark thoughts, such as how best to wrestle an Elite-Guard model like Optimus into his med-bay without breaking too much equipment. Slowly, he trudged out the door. _Maybe I should just skip trying to persuade him and use my tranquilizer gun first_, the old medibot mused speculatively. _It would definitely save time…_

No-one noticed the tall thin mech, or what he was doing. Gently, so as not to damage the delicate alien weapon, Prowl studied the human made sword resting in his servo. Out of all the blades he had found in that miniscule closet at the Nulte residence, one sword in particular had caught his attention. While normally, he considered the removal of evidence from a crime scene the height of bad behavior, he condoned it since it wasn't technically involved in the actual kidnapping. Besides, he would gladly present it back to it's rightful owner once they rescued her from the Decepticons. In the meantime, he could study this primitive organic sword at his leisure. Light flickered enticingly off of delicate filigree upon the hilt, and he sharpened his optics to better pick up the pattern, "Fascinating…"

Bulkhead, an overly large, round Autobot who had been quiet through the entire affair, blinked as he noticed something sort of weird. He tilted his oval shaped helm in confusion and pointed a dull green servo the size of a baby grand-piano. "Hey, Prowl! What's that thing?"

Jerking his helm up at the unexpected attention, the narrow framed ninja swiftly tucking the sword owned by Cassidy Nulte away before anyone else could see it. "It is nothing of consequence," he stated calmly. With fluid, silent movements, he rose from his half crouch and walked out the door. "As Prime has said, we have a rescue mission to engage in."

With a shrug the others followed, Bumblebee only pausing long enough to transform and allow Sari to hop in through his open door. Still, Bulkhead paused to scratch his helm in confusion. That thing Prowl was looking at sure didn't look like nothing. It almost looked like a tiny little sword… but that was stupid. What kind of 'Bot used a blade that was only three feet long? Deciding to shrug it off and not worry about it, he bellowed, "Hey, guys! Wait for me." With earthquake inducing thuds, he jogged after the others.

_Meanwhile, somewhere else in Detroit…_

She had been lounging for the past who knew how many hours when it happened: Cassidy's leg twitched outside of it's own volition. Instantly alarmed, she looked around. Hey, she was in a car that just happened to be alive; it's understandable why she was nervous. When nothing further occurred, she decided to ignore it. Leaning back, the teenager attempted to ignore how the upholstery shivered behind her and the chair springs flexed and moved completely out of her control. Shuddering, she looked out of the window. That was when the second spasm rocketed through her thigh muscles with the strength of a hammer blow. The brunet stiffened, her eyes growing wide. 'OH, NO!'

Glancing around hurriedly, the brunet analyzed the interior of the Mitsubishi. Complicated car components hemmed her in front and back. A tall storage compartment with complimentary cup holders invaded the space right next to her, making it impossible to stretch out properly. If what she thought was coming her way actually occurred, she had to move… fast! That was when a cool creeping stillness swept through her body: the last warning. Cassidy's eyes widened in alarm. "Swindle, you've gotta let me out!"

Dashboard buttons lit up in a shade of bright sunshiny yellow. "Heh, and why should I do that? The minute I let you out, you'll take off! And pardon me for functioning, but I'd rather relax right now." He didn't even bother to look in the organic's direction, long used to her pathetic distractions. _With the way she acts, you'd think my interior was the stockades_, he mused, feeling vaguely insulted.

"S-Swindle… Oh, God," the teenager choked out. Squeezing her eyes closed she gripped her leg harder and curled into herself, trying to contain the reaction of muscles too long dormant. Sweat beaded on her upper lip. 'Oooh, this cramp is going to be a doozy,' Cass realized, beginning to shiver.

"Hah," the huckster derisively laughed out loud. "And now you're attempting the sick prisoner routine? I'll let you in on a little secret Sweetheart, that was old even before my time!" Continuing to pleasantly cruise through town, he was content to ignore her.

Curling up only made it worse. She figured that out the hard way when the first wave of pain made her leg jerk convulsively. Instinctively snapping her body ramrod strait to alleviate the agony, she yelped when the dashboard got in the way with bruising force. Scrambling, Cassidy twisted so that her legs were over the center console and driver's seat instead. It barely helped. How she hated getting a charley-horse!

"WHAT is wrong with you," the 'Con asked in exasperation, finally growing tired of all the thumps and knocks about his person. Peering inward, he watched mystified as thin trickles of saline solution leaked from her eyes to dribble onto his carpet. She had her legs stretched across the seats, and appeared to be trying to touch her toes. Growing slightly concerned over her well being (She still hadn't given him any information yet, after all), he ran a quick scan.

Without any warning, a thick bombardment of static electricity draped over the brunet like a blanket. It crackled though her hair, dried out her eyes, and sank into her skin without so much as an invitation. Cassidy, who had never experienced a Cybertronian scan before, didn't know what had happened. All she knew was that the cramp in her thigh had suddenly gotten a thousand times worse. Seizing up in the worst muscle spasm in history, she clutched her legs and HOWLED.

Swindle jerked his wheel at the abrupt sonic abuse, even as the results of his scan came back. What he found was an overabundance of electrical current in her flesh, particularly around her legs, and a much lower salt content. In other words, her muscles were short-circuiting… and his scan had probably only increased the rate of malfunction. As his audios began to fritz out from the agony of it all, the 'Con-mech began desperately searching for an exit ramp. _Truly_, the huckster realized, _If this femme tries any harder, her voice could be even worse than Starscream!_ Racing into a thankfully abandoned rest stop, he skidded into the first available parking space. "Ok… Alright! CALM DOWN! Fragging femme..." Jerking his passenger side door open, he practically threw her out of his alt-mode "Don't run."

Half sobbing through her laughter, she gasped, "Don't run, he says… unbelievable." Cassidy felt completely scrunched, and for a moment all she could do was stretch. 'Oooh, my poor legs,' she silently agonized as she leaned into a fencer's lunge so deep that her nose almost touched the ground. It didn't seem to help! Cursing the robot responsible, she twisted in a different direction. Just as the teenager was in the midst of seeing if she really could do the splits, the weirdest noise she'd ever heard began. 'Styrofoam is what it sounds like,' she decided. 'If the squeaky sound of it rubbing against itself was recorded and amplified to earsplitting decibels, that is what it might be.' At last, though she was reluctant to know what the freaky alien was up to, she decided it was better to be on guard. Squinting through her pain at the parked car behind her, she could only stare.

All questions of how a giant alien could also be a car at the same time were answered in one single heart stopping instant. Wide eyed, she watched the car's undercarriage drop out into two equal halves. The hood split down the center forming gigantic legs. Arms ripped to life from previously inanimate automotive doors. For one brief instant, she could see the vehicle's perfectly normal interior, then it was gone with one forceful crunch of automotive parts and alien machinery crowding up to the ceiling. 'There isn't even enough room for an air molecule,' Cassidy realized, beginning to hyperventilate. 'If I had been sitting there just a few seconds longer… I would have been hamburger!' With a final rotation, the dirty green metal twisted around to hide his interior from further view, forming an oversized torso. The coupe-de-grace was the aliens rather square-ish head. Rising up out of his back, it settled into place on his shoulders with a loud hydraulic whoosh.

Blinking, she saw him for the first time in broad daylight. He was tall… well, maybe not as huge as the alien she'd seen at her school. Still, her head only barely came up to his knee. Whorls of silver, gold, and who knew how many other metals glinted on his gray visage as he turned toward the sunlight. His main defining feature, though, were his eyes. They dominated his face, their bright lavender glow making them appear to be much larger than they really were. Shifting noisily to a different stance, he raised up seven feet long arms high into the air. Then glossy ink black claws sprouted out of blunt metal fingertips.

Abruptly, any and all fascination faded as survival became the top concern on her mind. The only problem was, her body had other ideas. Thigh muscles in her left leg were still twitching like crazy. If she tried running now, she'd look like a hamstrung crab! Despite this the brunet tensed, fully prepared to at least attempt to avoid certain death. That was until gray metal eyelids shuttered closed and he let out a happy little electronic groaning noise. Blinking, she suddenly saw the terrifying giant of childhood nightmares in an entirely new light, and fought down an abrupt laugh. Apparently, she wasn't the only one feeling stiff this morning. Thin cat-slit pupils flickered into view and gave her a suspicious glance. Suddenly remembering that she had a horrible charley-horse to conquer and giant robots were best left alone, she devoted herself to minding her own business.

Snorting softly through his vents, Swindle resumed his calisthenics program. Armor pieces flexed open slightly with the effort of rotating his arms back to their maximum range. _Oooh, so wonderful…_ Closing his optics with a dull metallic click, it took him a moment to remember the fleshy. One brief scan confirmed that she was still trying to unobtrusively observe him, most likely looking for an opportunity to escape. Focusing on her, he watched her again avert her gold flecked eyes, so similar to tarnished copper, and scoffed out loud. "You aren't fooling anyone, you know."

Studiously considering the ground just beyond her outstretched foot, Cass rolled her eyes. "Well neither are you," she mumbled under her breath. A huge metal face abruptly arriving mere inches in front of her, though, caused her to yelp in surprise. Staggering back, a chill ran down her spine. 'Boy, are his eyes… BIG,' was the only coherent thought in her otherwise panic ridden brain. At this close a range, they weren't satellite dishes… they were the size of freaking card tables. "I-I mean, you have such a limited audience," she stuttered hurriedly. Swindle didn't answer, merely narrowed his optics to slits, with his brilliant cat's eye pupils focused on her. Adrenaline surged through Cassidy, making her a lot more limber for that split second as her instincts took over. 'But he can easily catch me,' she calculated fighting not to just give in and run for her life. The other option in fight or flight was 'attack.' Her body stiffened, struggling to resist that impulse as well.

The huckster, meanwhile, had no clue how close he was coming to getting face hugged by a survival oriented teenager. He was concentrating on running a cell deep scan of the fleshy, from heal to ponytail. Each chemical was instantly analyzed and categorized, every nuance of her face and coloring now filed away. Even the unique signature of her heartbeat. With that information on hand, and as long as she stayed within sensor range, he could locate her anywhere she went. Once he had downloaded it onto his hard files, he switched on the charm. A long broad smile, guaranteed to disarm even the most recalcitrant of customers, stretched across his face-plates.

Cassidy froze, literally scared stiff. It was like she was nose to nose with a CROCODILE! About the moment she realized she probably looked like some sort of stupid deer caught in the headlights, he spoke.

"Well, now," he suddenly exclaimed. "I've been thinking long and hard about how uncomfortable you've been in my alt-mode, so I figured: Hey, why not? Wander around! Get some exercise! Primus knows we both need the break." To seem even more sincere, he leaned in even closer! With a carefully crafted expression of pleased innocence, he gazed upon a face that was a mere fraction of his size. _There_, he concluded, proud of his persuasive skills. _That should prove to her I'm not some sort of monster. Now the silly little femme will trust me completely._ Giving her a shy boy next door smile that was sure to make her swoon, he asked, "So, what do you say to that?"

Snapping out of her paralysis she shrieked, "OH, MY GOD! HE'S GONNA EAT ME!" Throwing her arms into the air, she cringed, expecting the worst.

Alien features screwed up in abrupt disgust as he straitened to his full fifteen foot height. _Okay… maybe the technique still needs a little practice._ "Oh, nonsense," he exclaimed out loud. "Don't be so disgusting. I know you'd probably taste even worse than century old used motor oil!" Still feeling a little disturbed, Swindle took a moment to find his bearings. Then like a hundred watt bulb, he was all smiles and manufactured warmth. "So," his arm swept out a good seven feet across the air invitingly. "Feel free to do whatever it is you young organics do for fun! In the meantime, I'll relax." Turning, he clanked away with heavy tremor inducing steps. At the edge of the parking lot, he paused, before flopping to the ground. Cassidy cringed through the resulting earthquake that make her teeth clack and her sneakers bounce uncontrollably under her. Several long thin cracks grew along the ground around the Decepticon's aft, the silent suffering of asphalt that couldn't endure much more abuse. Not caring, Swindle slowly leaned back into the trunks of several nearby pines. Amazingly, though they creaked alarmingly, the trees remained standing.

Cass stared for a moment at the daydreaming alien sitting nice and pretty in his self made crater, trying to recover from what she'd been sure were her last moments on Earth. The alien was up to something, she wasn't sure what, but it was something. She'd gotten the impression that he was in a hurry, so the last activity he was going to want participate in was counting the clouds. Taking a deep breath, the brunet review her options. 'Now let's see…,' her gaze flickered for a fraction of an instant toward the nearby forest, but that idea was immediately discounted. Camping wasn't exactly her forte. In fact, she was so pathetic at the whole wilderness experience, she probably wouldn't survive one day, let alone long enough to be rescued. 'Then there's the road,' she considered the rushing highway beyond the onramp before also rejecting that plan. 'Yeah, right! I'm going to outrun a car,' she mocked herself. 'Sure! And while I'm at it I'll grow a set of wings and fly to the moon!' A new thought suddenly entered her mind, and she gazed at the generic cinderblock restrooms. 'Why not? I need to use it, and those things usually have a pay-phone or two within easy reach.'

She'd barely taken three steps when the sun suddenly vanished and her whole world was swallowed in darkness. Brilliant purple twin suns shone down inches above her head. With a startled shriek she dropped to the ground, her hands protectively covering the back of her neck. "Oh, and one more thing," a smooth sales-rich voice purred from all around her. "Don't leave the rest stop… capiche?" Long black claws briefly flashed before the Decepticon vanished just as suddenly as he'd arrived. Her heart hammering, she twisted around to see Swindle slowly sitting back down as if nothing had happened.

"GEE, YAH THINK," she shouted back, truly shaken. "I'm not a complete moron!" Picking herself up from the protective crouch she'd fallen into and muttering curses under her breath, she marched resolutely toward the restrooms. 'Not that I have to use them anymore,' she realized, feeling something embarrassingly damp. 'Lousy, stinking, no-good…'

"Oh, and you might want this," the sales-mech mockingly called after her. An overstuffed pink camouflage duffle bag thudded to the ground next to her. How he had gotten it out of his interior when it had to have been squashed into nothing, she had no clue. In frustration, the teenager kicked it and continued her stomping journey toward the safe haven of toilets and privacy, only to pause. Swindle watched with quietly twinkling optics as she slowly came back. With injured pride, she hefted up the monstrosity of emergency supplies and aimed a dark look at the smiling mech. Then spinning around, the brunet resumed her journey, muttering to herself about "freaking robots," and, "What did I ever do to deserve this?"

Swindle, meanwhile, gingerly eased into his previous spot on the ground. Parts groaned, making him wince. Though it had been a strain on his systems to move that quickly, it was still worth it. Just before his aft touched the ground, a coolant line popped loudly. Warning lights flashed to life, and he bit his lip-plating to avoid crying out in agony. Groaning, he at last settled upon the ground and leaned back against his makeshift pine tree backrest. He vented out a sigh. It had been painful, but necessary. Chances were, he now wouldn't have to retrieve that crazy femme from who knew where, and he could relax besides.

He lazily monitored her movements while reviewing his plots and plans for the next stage of the heist. This situation worried him more than he liked to let on. On one level, the Autobots were after him. While this was the usual state of affairs, the fact that they were focused on hunting him above any other activity was a little bothersome. Added to the mix was Megatron: his best, and currently, most fragged off customer. There were no delusions in his processor over the slag that would hit the fan if the ousted dictator or his loyal followers caught him. With the local law enforcement also on his tail, it was a horrible mess. He'd have to scramble like mad to stay ahead of the game. A frown stole across his features as tiny pieces of bark flaked down, followed by a wet, sticky sensation. "Yuck!"

_Meanwhile…_

Stepping out of the stall was a thoroughly refreshed teenager. Sure, she was wearing an obnoxious purple and gold 'Fitness Guru' tee-shirt, but it was clean! Thank God, she had an extra pair of jeans! Cassidy had changed her clothes in record time, despite the fact that she'd had to keep the door closed by leaning against it (the lock was missing.) Beyond that, the last thing she wanted was to be rescued without a bra! Digging a bar of soap and her gym towel out of her survival bag, she then did her best to wash off the stench of eight hours straight in a car. It wasn't easy. For one thing, the faucet was one of those pump action kinds, the type that had to be pushed down and held there in order to make the water run.

Quickly tossing the sopping wet washcloth back into her duffle bag, she dug around until she'd located a toothbrush and a mini container of toothpaste. Fuzz was all over her mouth! It was obvious the big metal bastard was using terrorist tactics. The problem was, they were effective. Cass shuddered at the recent memory of rushing shadows and flashing claws. She'd never seen anything move that fast in her life! Scowling, she spat out the last of the mint flavored paste and did her best to wash it down the drain with a few well placed squirts of water. If it was the last thing she did, she was going to make that sneaky, oversized tin-can pay! Going back to her duffle, she repacked her stuff, all the while reviewing her next plan: Operation Payphone! A touch of deodorant, and she was ready!

Casually strolling out of the bathroom, her duffle bag securely slung over her shoulder and her movements deliberately silent, the brunet glanced around. Rest-stops always had payphones, it was a foregone conclusion that one had to be nearby, but where? Cassidy had to circle around the entire cinderblock building until she was almost within sight of her captor. Well… she could see one of his robotic feet. Carefully, the teenager listened. No sound came, metallic or otherwise. The dial tone might alert him, so she had to be quick. With rapid movements, she snatched up the receiver. Just three magic numbers and-

"CASSIDY," bellowed a familiar alien voice at the top of his vocalizer.

Yelping, the brunet fumbled the receiver as wildly as a professional juggler. It swung down, smacking against the side of the terminal. Her heart hammered wildly, Cass hesitantly peered around the corner at the giant robot. Swindle appeared to be highly annoyed. Deciding discression was the better part of valor, she called back, "What?"

There he sat, with his massive clawed hands flat upon the ground and his long legs stretched out in front of him. He probably didn't realize it, but he looked like a giant rag doll. With a scowl, the alien motioned at her with one servo. "Come over here!"

She took a deep breath. Nervously, Cass wondered, 'Maybe he's going to do that lethal spanking after all.'

Purple optics glowed extra bright at that moment and his glare became fiercer. "Don't make me ask twice," he warned.

Feeling genuinely frazzled, the brunet wondered incredulously, 'That was a request?' Swallowing hard, she crept out into the open, her duffle bag held in front of her as a makeshift shield. With hesitant steps, fully prepared to run if he so much as twitched, she began shuffling toward him.

The 'Con waited for a full six minutes before his patience wore out. Rolling his optics, he complained, "Could you move any slower? Honestly, I've seen five millennia old service drones with more 'get up and go' than you." His smile faltered when the organic stopped completely. She'd gotten that same look on her face, the one that said that he might eat her. He vented out a sigh, mumbling to himself in Cybertronian, "Maybe I overdid it on the scare tactics. Time to lay on the charm."

A wide, unassuming boyish grin stretched across his faceplates and his optics adopted just the right amount of playful innocence. "Sweetheart, why are you giving me that look? I'm not going to hurt you; we're partners!" He felt like snorting when a look of disbelief briefly flashed across her face. "Look," he paused a moment to vent out a put upon sigh. "Some organic substance smeared on my back right where I can't reach. I just need you to remove it. That's all." He aimed a pleading look her way.

"Organic substance," she repeated, momentarily thrown by the weird turn of phrase. Then an expression of pure disgust overcame her features. "Oh, God! I hope it's not a crushed squirrel."

"WHAT," the 'Con barked in surprise, and tried to look over his shoulder. He couldn't quite see…

"Did yah even look where yah were going to sit," she demanded. His blank, openly surprised expression was all the answer she needed. Eying the deep depression in the ground beneath him, and the gradually tilting pine trees behind, she could guess at how pulverized this 'organic substance' was going to be. Squinching her eyes closed, she groaned, "Oh, this is going to be so nasty." A new thought occurred to her, and she considered him thoughtfully. "If I help yah out, will yah let me go?"

"Now, there you go again," he exclaimed warmly, as if he was talking to a five year old who was saying her first word. "Acting like you're some kind of prisoner or something! I told you, Kid, you've been hired. Compared to the alternative, there's a world of difference. Believe me."

"It's a hostage situation because you kidnapped me and won't stop…" Trailing off at his unchanging expression of handshakes and empty smiles, Cassidy rolled her eyes. It was bad enough she was being held hostage by a salesman, but did it have to be one that was delusional too? "Fine, I'll take a look, but yah need to lay down first." Purple optics deepened to a shade of distrustful plum and stared at her in fixated surprise. "Well, go on," she ordered, her hands on her hips. "I'm not about to climb yah like Mount Everest."

Still, the huckster continued to stare at her. The femme's personality had gone from a terrified sparkling to a take no prisoners military commander, which was a little disconcerting. At last, reluctantly, he complied. The trees groaned as the massive weight lifted away. A few had even been in danger of breaking in half; Swindle was by no means a delicate model. Carefully twisting around, he settled face down on the human made asphalt. With his head turned, he kept a watchful optic on Cassidy's slow approach.

To distract herself from the momentous job assigned to her, the brunet continued to talk out loud. "It could be a blue jay, or a bird's nest or… Ewww, an opossum! Where did yah say it was," she questioned, eying his form the same way one would consider a manure farm.

"You aren't being very comforting," Swindle commented dryly. "It's JUST an organic substance. If it's any consolation, I'll give you a bonus for this arduous task." Ignoring him, because she was too busy building up her courage, Cassidy at last hauled herself up. She'd chosen the small of his back, which was lowest to the ground. So, now, here she was. Standing absolutely still, she surveyed the landscape. The metal under her sneakers thrummed with warm pulsing energy. Bumps and ridges in various shades of puke-green stretched on for as far as the eye could see, interspersed with metal gears and black machine parts. Even though the armor looked solid, it flexed and moved with every twitch and turn of the giant that it housed. Her eyes bugged out as she watched a thin steel spire rise up in the distance. 'This is weird,' was her heartfelt silent conclusion.

"Are you even going to do anything," the Decepticon muttered in annoyance. He felt just this side of ridiculous in this position. If any of his associates discovered he'd let an organic walk all over him, he'd be laughed out of the sales arena. Shifting slightly, he aimed a sharp glare at her out of the corner of his optic.

"I'm coming," Cass replied. Taking one more glance around, she drew a deep breath and began hiking. "Yah know, it might not be any of those things," she realized brightening.

"Oh," Swindle wondered, his voice muffled.

"Yeah," the teenager replied, slightly more chipper. "There's lots of stuff hanging out in trees. It might be something with acidic blood, or one of those animals that exacts revenge if it's mate's killed. You could be hunted for the rest of your life! Heh, if it was a bear, we'd know about it by now. Those things are mean, and they can rip apart a car with very little effort." Putting her hands on her hips, she eyed what appeared to be a pristine landscape of mechanical parts and armor. "So, where is it?"

"Over near my shoulder plates… No, to the left! OW," Swindle winced when a tiny sneaker caught on some exposed wires in the small of his back, followed by a thud. "Watch it!"

Groaning, Cassidy slowly picked herself up from her face-plant into one very solid metal ridge. "Well, be more specific," she groused back in annoyance. Rubbing a bumped nose, she began a slow journey in a new direction. "Crazy robot… And 'Ow,' right back at yah. You're skin isn't exactly soft, yah know. What's it made of anyway? It felt like I slammed into my Pop's security safe."

"It's armor, not skin," Swindle corrected her. "And there isn't a word in your language that applies." In silence, he endured little soft rubber soled organic feet padding their way along his back and fought not to scratch. He gritted his dentas when she trod on yet another patch of exposed wires. "Could you attempt to be a little more careful? Now, just slightly further to the left…. Stop! Do you see it?"

Brown eyes searched a plateau of bumpy green metal. There was nothing even slightly resembling squirrel guts, or anything really. It was automotive parts and nothing else. "No."

"No! What do you mean no," Swindle demanded incredulously. "You're practically on top of it!"

Disgruntled, she looked down. Had she stepped in something and didn't know it? It was while she was checking under her right sneaker that the landscape shifted under her like an earthquake. "Aaack! Watch it!" Cass grabbed a nearby spire of jutting metal to steady herself, before glaring down at the living landscape under her feet. "I almost fell off!"

Enduring the itchy sensation of oily little fingers wrapping around the components of his as yet dormant force-field generator, he could only grunt in reply. She didn't touch it for long, thank, Primus! It had taken everything he had in him not to just roll on his back and rub the irritation away like an flea ridden turbo-fox. "If you'd just look down, you're little fleshy foot is nearly touching it!"

Dubiously, Cassidy studied the metal by her sneakers. Her forehead wrinkling, she looked closer. Crouching down, the brunet considered the slight, infinitesimal blemish of yellow marring the shiny green surface she was standing on. That was when the smell reached her nostrils and she frowned. Putting one nail into the spot, she could instantly feel the sticky residue. Scowling, she muttered, "I don't believe it…"

"What? What is it," the huckster yelped, bucking a little.

Wildly scrambling to keep her balance in the ensuing tremor, she shouted, "It's TREE SAP! You freaked out over a smear of sugar the size of a quarter!" Cassidy glared at the 'Con beneath her, scowling.

"Just get it off," the huckster moaned, sounding embarrassed.

"I can't," she tossed back. As she began to make her way off of the large Swindle shaped hill, a frown spilled over her features. 'Great, now my hands are sticky!'

"You can't," Swindle demanded. "What do you mean you can't!"

"And I meant exactly what I said," she patiently explained. "Yah need a solvent to get rid of that. So unless you just happen to have some kerosene on hand, I guess you're stuck with it." One short jump later, and she was back on good old tarmac. Doing her best to rub off the glue like sap from her skin, she rolled her eyes, "Yah, big metal baby." Then the hill moved. She gulped, backing up a pace, her gaze lifting. A massive black painted metal head rose higher, and higher, and still higher. Shoulders the size of a mobile home rose with it, followed by an oversized windshield decorated chest. With one hand, he scooped up her duffle bag as if it was a dollhouse toy. 'How could I have forgotten how dangerous he is,' Cassidy wondered suddenly nervous. 'He kidnapped me by ripping up my room, for crying out loud!' Rapidly ticking over her memories of the past ten minutes of conversation, she could only gulp.

When that bright purple gaze fell on her, however, Swindle looked anything but murderous. "Well, I think we've wasted enough time here, don't you? Really, I appreciate your attempting to help me. I couldn't ask for a better employee…" He folded into himself and flipped all sorts of different pieces around in weird ways until a perfectly ordinary Mitsubishi sat docily by her side. One door swung open with an inviting click in her direction, her duffle bag resting nice and pretty in the driver's seat. "So, keeping that in mind, let's make tracks, Kid!"

Nervously, she considered the location of the phone booth. She had dialed 911. That meant that sooner or later, theoretically, the cops would show up. If she could just delay things a bit more… An impatient rumble rose up from someplace other than the car's hood, making her jump. Her heart hammering, she meekly crept close and took her time climbing in. It didn't seem long enough. Biting her lip, she watched the passenger side door close, taking freedom right along with it. The teenager slumped as she gazed out the window, longing written clearly in her expression. With professional ease, the car began coasting off toward the exit ramp.

"Oh, by the way," Swindle purred sweetly. With alarming suddenness, he spun around until his vehicular nose was facing the restrooms, specifically the phone booth side. A panel slid open on top of the hood in front of Cassidy, revealing a futuristic shiny gray gun. Rapidly arming, the butt end of the pulse gun glowed a cheerful shade of red before firing. In seconds, all three payphones was a dripping puddle of black plastic and cooked wires. Then the weapon slipped back inside until all it resembled was an ordinary, slightly ugly, green car hood. In darker, but no less pleasant tones, he warned, "Don't do that again." Turning back around, he resumed his journey at a much more pleasant pace.

For a good fifteen minutes, there was nothing but silence. Cassidy did her best to jumpstart her brain despite the terrifying reality of her little plot being found out. 'Maybe he's not as stupid as I thought,' she reflected absently. Then the reality of the situation set in. Her escape options were once again at a whopping zero. She scowled. 'I hate this robot.'

Cruising down the freeway about ten miles an hour faster than the posted speed limit, Swindle cut between drone vehicles like a pro. There was only so long he could handle silence however. One rapid glance confirmed the solid funk the fleshy had fallen into. "Oh, don't be such a sore loser," he interrupted her musings. "I just wanted to get you away from that primitive communications device. It's an old ploy."

"So that whole 'tree sap' thing was a ruse," Cassidy whined. She pouted at his radio, the closest thing to a face the alien had right now.

"Of course," he confirmed. Swindle paused a moment to concentrate on traffic. 'Slagging motorcycles! Think they're immortal,' he silently groused, barely avoiding a reckless driver. Resuming his boasting, the 'Con continued, "I was imitating a mech I once sold some overpriced wax to. I believe Sunstreaker was his name…"

"Like I care," she mumbled. Slithering to life, the seatbelt wrapped around her hips and chest snugly before locking.

"You should," the overly false, cheerful voice informed her.

A sigh escaped Cassidy that was the picture of suffering. She glanced down to confirm what she already knew. 'Yep, the strap was right there, again, wedged between her breasts. "Freaking pervert," she growled softly.

An extra dozen or so twinkly lights flashed to life on the Mitsubishi's front console. "What," the huckster inquired. He abruptly jerked the wheel to avoid a delivery-truck that was changing lanes. "I'm SORRY did you say something?"

Gritting her teeth through the near collission, Cassidy growled, "Nope."

At last making his way around the massive road hog of a drone vehicle by switching lanes three times and giving an old lady in a Pontiac a near heart attack, Swindle puzzled over the organics obvious lie. _Oh, well_, the huckster at last concluded with a shrug of his seatbelts. _She can have her secrets, as long as she cooperates._ He paused in his thoughts as he realized that she had, yet again, removed her safety restraints and was climbing into a different seat. Mentally rolling his optics, the Cybertronian groused, _Typical femme, can't make up her mind about which chair she wants to sit in!_ Sighing, he readied yet another safety restraint and waited for her to settle down again. Observing her, he concluded, _What a fickle little organic._


	15. Chapter 15

Confidence Game

Chapter 15: Wheeler Dealer

By: Mooncrossed

_Happy vacation! Hope everyone enjoyed themselves. Now, onto the reviews: to Daoi Sidhe (Sure, she could tell him, but who's to say he'd actually understand?), to legendary dogs (Thanks! Wait and see…), to Screamer (Welcome back! I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter. And I'm also happy you understand.) Now, onto the story! _

Racing down the entrance ramp, the motorcycle skidded to a halt with a spray of loose stones. Within seconds a low level energy wave swept across the parking lot of the rest stop. The few humans present, a few phone technicians and a handful of Detroit cops, barely even felt it. Most assumed it had been the breeze, a few noticed that their nice pleated uniforms now had a solid dose of static electricity but then shrugged it off. There was only one who truly understood what had happened: Prowl. His holographic driver, a rather unassuming specimen of the human species, casually parked his bike beneath the shade of some majestic pines and appeared to relax. It was deliberately chosen by it's owner to be as forgettable as possible.

None of the cops paid any mind to the new arrival; the highway patrol had already radioed that they were sending somebody down to assess the situation. This case of vandalism was anything but ordinary. It had started when dispatch had gotten an incomplete call from one of the local payphones. The nearest officers were told to check into it. Two speeding tickets, a domestic dispute, and a malfunctioning dog walking robotic drone later, they had finally arrived at the small secluded rest stop. Besides, it was probably just some local kids pulling a prank. Hey, it happened often enough. All that needed to be done was to replace the phone back on the hook, end of story. That was an hour and a half ago.

What Officer's Kingsley and Winston had discovered, was that there was no need to replace the phone back in it's usual position because there wasn't a cradle… in fact there wasn't even a terminal. The puddle of chill plastic and burnt wires lying where the terminal used to be promising hours of paperwork for some unlucky cop. For those who hoped it was the result of some kind of fire, they were instantly disappointed due to the lack of scorch marks anywhere else.

Katrina Moriarty pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off a growing headache. "There's only one kind of creature that can make this kind of mess," she muttered to her partner, "and with my luck it's the same robot that ripped that suburban home a new front door last night."

"At least the city planners don't have to shell out any tax dollars to build a new public pool, they can just use this thing instead," Harding joked. He currently stood on the edge of a deep crater on the edge of the parking lot. Setting the last cone down, he began stringing up caution tape.

"Yeah, here's hoping," she responded absently, removing her forensics equipment from it's case. All the necessary photos had already been taken, now she had to remove a sample. Considering everything she had was made to gather evidence for human committed crimes, her equipment was mediocre at best. They had tried to acquire more modern equipment from the Autobots for investigating possible Cybertronian committed crimes. The key word was 'tried.' Katrina was surprised they hadn't been laughed out of the room. Holding up a small knife, she rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Joy," before beginning the unlikely task of removing a sample of melted plastic from what used to be a pay phone.

Prowl stiffened as new information became obvious to his processor. Whatever the reason, the Decepticon who was responsible for all of this destruction had lain down. For what reason? Had the suspect fallen? If so, it would support his theory that his prey was suffering from some sort of malady. In puzzlement, he examined the rest of the compiled information, from weapons signatures to pede prints. It wasn't much to go on. The gun used was a standard issue particle weapon, one that was fairly common to mechs throughout the galaxy. Likewise, the 'Con had done very little besides rest.

The bike sighed through his vents, and made preparations to leave. This part of the hunt had been a long shot at best. Now, all that was left was the time consuming drive back to base. He was just in the midst of ordering his holographic driver to leave, when the Autobot realized a correlation. Immediately layering all of the maps, one on top of the other, he was presented with a bizarre image that almost caused his illusionary driver to fizzle out. Prowl couldn't honestly believe his optics. An organic had climbed on top of the Decepticon? Attempting to apply some form of logic to the information displayed, he very nearly shorted out his processor.

Officer Tom Harding glanced over his shoulder just as he was straightening from tying off the last of the caution tape, only to stiffen and look again. He could have sworn he'd seen that new guy, (What was his name?), vanish into thin air! Rubbing his eyes, he looked again. What he saw was a perfectly ordinary highway patrolman climbing onto his bike. Without the slightest glance to the side, the man on the motorcycle drove across the parking lot, up the driveway, and into late afternoon commuter traffic. Shaking his head, Harding took a moment to assess the situation before heading toward his squad car for a bottle of water. Obviously, he was seeing things.

-_Meanwhile, on the other side of town…_

Swindle had been thinking through the time-piece dilemma very carefully for some time now. So far, he'd tried sweet talking, threatening, lying, and double crossing, all to no avail. This latest attempt to persuade her to cough up the location of his sales item had been a dismal failure as well. He grimaced as he recalled it, willing to admit now that he had gotten just a tad hot in the circuits, and it had cost him. _Slag the latent warrior coding responsible for my quick temper! Granted_, he pardoned himself, _I had a reason to get angry. Who wouldn't, considering she turned on me the instant I allowed her the slightest trace of freedom? Ungrateful brat! _

Sadly, this had amounted to a set back. Refocusing his visual sensors to an inward view, he considered the fleshy in his front seat. It had been two solid hours, and in that interminable amount of time, the femme hadn't said a single word. She'd barely even moved, no matter what he did! He heaved a sigh through his vents, noticing when she flinched from the rush of hot air. _Oh, yeah_, he reflected, _She doesn't interact with me, except for that._ A sullen, stubborn set had come over her alien features now, causing him to sag on his suspension even as he drove. She was useless to him this way… Unfortunately, that only left him with one option. Readying his seatbelts, and hating himself for what he was about to do, he took a last fortifying intake of air to brace himself. Then he struck!

Cassidy didn't know what had hit her. One moment, she was gazing out at the moving scenery and concocting her twenty-third elaborate escape plan from the alien she was trapped inside. The next, she found herself flat on her back. Blinking in stunned alarm at the gray felt ceiling above her, she barely had the chance to ask, "Whaa…?" A kindly pat on the cheek from a glinting mettle buckle was what she received. Other belts were working overtime, rubbing her arms, her legs, her torso… Shooting out one hand, she barely deflecting an overly friendly nylon appendage before it could wander someplace it shouldn't. There was also talking, an endless stream of words so rapid and falsely cheerful that it could make a cattle auctioneer jealous!

"There now, Cass. I can call you Cass, right?" Swindle over-road any comments she might have been inclined to share in favor of continuing his one-mech conversation. "Why, I am simply MORTIFIED over my lack of proper behavior! It's understandable now why you're so uncomfortable." Pausing dramatically, he waited for his target's dimwitted re-joiner. If he was expecting the brunet to behave like all of his other customers, however, he was sadly disappointed_. Instead, she's in the process of rolling over, most likely to get the full benefit of my massage techniques_, Swindle silently realized, and rolled his optics. _What a spoiled organic!_ He was professional enough not to let his personal opinions reflect in his tone of voice however. Instead, he decided to be helpful. "Ha, Ha, you seem to be having some difficulty, so let me help you with that!"

Just as she was in the midst of commando crawling her way to freedom off of the reclined front seat, the armrest snapped down hard, pinning her arm. Letting out a pained grunt, she used backward momentum to try to pry herself free. All the while seatbelts kept patting and smacking, there must have been fifty of them! This was directly opposed to the standard compliment of five for the average Mitsubishi Gallant. 'Where do they keep coming from,' was what she wondered at first. Another ten magically appeared, causing her eyes to bug out. 'More importantly,' she realized, 'how do I get away from them?' Unfortunately, her new position meant that her back was now unprotected. "Aack," She yelped at one particularly heavy swat across the derriere, and struggled more desperately to free herself. "What did I do wrong? Stop it!"

Not that he was listening. His words arrived faster than machine gun fire, and the fact that he didn't need to breath in order to keep talking insured he wouldn't be stopping any time soon. "Here I am, so focused on my own cares and worries when you must be feeling so much worse," he lamented, startled yelps and cursing decorating the background. "No wonder you've been attempting to leave my charming company!" Extending one of his many sensor coils, now cleverly disguised as an ordinary seatbelt, from it's housing between seat cushions, he gently ran it through her head growth of dead keratin follicles. Shuddering instinctively at the sensation, he silently griped, _The things I do to stay financially solvent_. _And she's so easily crushable!_ Only one word, inelegant as it was, could adequately describe this experience: _Ugh!_

Cass was just in the midst of attempting to leap frog over the back of the car seat when a belt whipped around her waist tightly enough to make her squeak. With a tensile strength far surpassing that of a human, the car hauled her back down into her chair. Despite her embarrassment over having let out such an overly girlish noise, she valiantly attempted to once again evade the seatbelts of doom. All the while, the vehicle cruised merrily on down the road without a care in the world. 'Doesn't anyone notice what I'm going through,' she despairingly wondered, unaware of the state-of-the-art sound dampeners installed in Swindle's person. Casting a frantic gaze toward a car in a nearby lane, she yelled, "HELP! I've been kidnapped by a rabid salesman! Save me- Umph!" Cassidy broke off as she was dragged back out of view. The elderly couple in the sedan she'd been calling to drove on in complete obliviousness, much to the teenager's disappointment.

_Rabid?_ The sales-mech puzzled over the unfamiliar word before placing an addendum in his memory banks to look it up later. Right now, he had an organic to lull into a false sense of security! Belts at the ready, he dragged the protesting brunet from where she was curled up on his floorboards. "Oh, stop being so humble," he admonished as he dumped her back into his front passenger seat. "You deserve every comfort I have to offer! Hey! Are you hungry? I'll bet you've never tried Tiktri Forest Worms, the finest delicacy money can buy! I've heard rave reviews all across the galaxy over this rare treat and I'll bet you're practically jittery with excitement to have one," he exclaimed, already accessing his inventory.

Finally, Cassidy managed to rip the last of the thousands of seatbelts off her person only to sense movement to her left. The creature she came nose to nose with was slimy, sinuous, fanged, and staring at her from it's coiled perch atop a filigreed square gold platter on the seat next to her. For one long dripping moment, it studied the teenager, then it lunged. "Gaaah," she yelled, climbing the chair in her efforts to get away. Beady pupil-less eyes considered her malevolently before it began oozing closer to the brunet.

Frowning in confusion, Swindle none-the-less pried her off of his ceiling with one of his belts. "Okay… maybe you aren't as famished as I thought." He brightened as a solution presented itself. "I know! I'll just save it for you to try later!" Swindle quickly sub-spaced the expensive organic fuel before it could begin slithering around his alt-mode. Don't get him wrong, he loved the business the creatures could generate, but that viscous slime they exuded was the Pit to clean out of his upholstery. All the while, his processor was racing through millions of items in his inventory, attempting to find the perfect bribe to make this fleshy tell all. There had to be something she wanted!

Grasping and clawing, she finally managed to escape into the back seat. What Cass was planning on doing there was anyone's guess, she was just glad to get away!

'Maybe I could scratch S.O.S. into the rear window,' she considered with reckless abandon. If people weren't willing to listen to her, then maybe they would be more likely to read instead. Spying her duffle bag shoved into the corner, she dove on it in search of her pocketknife.

"Oooh," Swindle exclaimed as he came across a particularly enticing sales item. "You humans love perfume? Well, so do the Zinta of Kaeta 12. I've acquired a shipment that is sure to DAZZLE the finest senses!" A gallon of clear liquid doused the fleshy from head to toe. Coughing and hacking at the disgusting scent combination of fried chicken and hospital disinfectant, she dropped her duffle bag and dove on the window controls of the nearest door instead. Frantic organic fingers skittered and jumped over buttons that flatly refused to work. "But WAIT, that's not all," the alien declared making her cringe. In dread, she lifted gold flecked eyes toward the twinkling front console.

In low sly tones, as if he was conveying a secret he was just mischievous enough to share, he murmured, "I also have Calodras makeup, sure to attract even the most reluctant of mates to your side!" Just barely raising her arm in time, she caught a puff ball the size of a watermelon before it could collide with her face. The resulting dust cloud filled the air, and her lungs, with a dark green choking powder. Swindle's words continued right over her coughing and sputtering. "And in case you were reluctant to acquire such a fleeting adornment, don't worry! Due to it's tendency to stain the skin, Calodras makeup is guaranteed to last up to a week at a time! You can look gorgeous for ages with a minimum of effort! Yes folks, Calodras makeup… I also happen to have-"

"Aaagh! Stop it," the brunet shrieked. "I can't take any more! Just stop before my head explodes!" Breathing hard, she stayed tense and still in the sudden silence. One by one, lights twinkled to life in the car's front console.

The Decepticon paused, startled from his spiel by the sudden organic scream. Sifting his way out of the reams of black market items listed within his memory core, it took a moment to reconnect with reality. Focusing on the fleshy for the first time since this entire thing started, he took in her crouched over battle stance, with her legs firmly planted and her hands tensed and ready to claw. Gold flecked eyes glared at him, reminding him of the expression of a cornered wild animal. Noting her mane, which was a chaotic green streaked mess… In fact, he had no idea how half of her body got stained green to begin with… _Oh, that's right_, he remembered. _The makeup…_ With a sense of distaste, he reflected on how ugly it looked, before mentally shrugging. _Organics are weird, but who am I to judge on taste?_ Still, she seemed to expect a response. Clearing his vocals, he politely enquired, "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Squinting in stunned disbelief, the brunet had to take a moment to reorder her thoughts. Several answers leaped to the front of her mind, and Cass had to bite her tongue to prevent the meanest ones from staining the air. After all, the 'what-ever-they're-called' alien perfume was doing that job already. She swallowed, took a moment to edit out the cuss words, and asked, "What in the world are you doing?"

"Why, making you more comfortable, of course," came the smoothly pleasant response. Her disbelieving, stunned expression gave him pause.

"Wait a minute," she exclaimed. "How does a stink bomb, a green dust cloud, and a slimy snake equal comfort? I mean, if you're really serious about trying to please me, then all you have to do is open one of your doors. I'd be happy to leave this-"

As usual, he latched onto the wrong point she was trying to make. In exasperation, he exclaimed, "You mean none of those items were to you're liking? What could possibly be wrong with the Tiktri Worm? Those things cost a fortune!"

"That fortune tried to eat me for lunch," she protested.

"Or the perfume-," he continued.

"Stinks," she flatly stated. Her nose wrinkled as a new waft of medicinal stench rose up. "Terrific," she mumbled to herself. "I'm probably going to have to burn this shirt."

He was too busy reviewing his visual logs to make any comments on her lack of taste. While the sale had been ongoing, he hadn't actually been paying too much attention to what was occurring to the actual customer. What he saw made him grimace. "Well… at least I got the massage right," he mumbled.

Cassidy's head jerked up. "Massage? More like a beating!" The air began to heat up to near cooking temperatures, so the brunet quickly adopted a more soothing manner. "Look, I realize now that you were only trying to help me, and I'm grateful. But really, if you want to make me happy, all you have to do is let me go." As an added incentive, she widened her dark eyes and gazed at the Mitsubishi's radio pleadingly. A kind of hesitation filled the air; Cass hopefully crossed her fingers for luck. 'Come on, you bastard,' she silently urged. 'Feel sorry for me, so I can get out of this hell-hole!'

Staring at the human giving him the kicked puppy impersonation, Swindle felt torn. On one level, he was berating himself for a botched sales job, while on the other… He finally gave into the impulse to laugh himself silly. She just seemed so ridiculous, with her head growth streaked green and Zinta perfume wafting up from her fleshy body in nearly visible waves. Add in the amateurish sad eye's expression (please! He could do such a better job of it), and he couldn't help himself. The fleshy was so pathetic looking!

At the first rush of warm air from open air vents, Cassidy blinked. The second warm breeze was accompanied by her ears popping. She grimaced slightly, realizing that her oh-so-odorous clothes were beginning to dry. 'Yuck!' Another explosive gust of warmth filled the car, and Cass couldn't help but notice how the walls of the alien car flexed and bowed with each dry burst. At last, she put two and two together. Dropping the act, she demanded, "You're laughing at me?"

Vocals containing nothing but falsehood filled the air. "Hmmm?" Swindle recognized that pissed off expression all too well. He could also identify worm slime smeared all over her jeans. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Air whooshed through his vents yet again from the amusement of it all.

"You are laughing at me," she declared. Royally peeved, she placed her hands on her hips. The resulting squelch of worm slime under her hands was loud enough to deserve it's own airspace. She froze. In stunned silence, she slowly looked down. Continuing to expand and contract with each wheezing guffaw, the Decepticon felt comments were entirely unnecessary. With a snort, Cassidy collapsed into a fit of laughter. "Oh, my God," she snickered out loud. "I look terrible!" Clutching her ribs, the brunet continued to giggled over the state she was in. That just set Swindle off more. It got so bad, that the huckster had to pull over to the side or risk crashing. Together, the pair proceeded to laugh themselves hoarse.

Several minutes later, Cassidy finally managed to get over her fit of amusement enough to crawl over the central console to the front seats. Tilting the rearview mirror, she snickered over her new 'decorations.' Laughing softly, she mumbled, "I look like some kind of gothic punk… Won't Iris be jealous?" A descending length of nylon seatbelt smacked her hand away, making her squawk. "Hey! What's your big problem? I was just checking my reflection!"

"My problem, Miss Nulte, is that I'd prefer it if you kept you're hands off," Swindle sneered. "If you're that interested in seeing your appearance, use your own paint kit!" His glove box opened with jarring force.

Wincing at the noise of what sounded suspiciously glasslike shattering, she crept closer. Carefully lifting the cheap plastic powder and lipstick combination makeup kit, she was greeted with a fractured image. Yep, she was right, the mirror had paid the price. She gave the Decepticon's radio a rueful glance. "Hope yah realize this means you're getting seven years bad luck," she drawled, before abruptly recognizing where they were parked. "Hey, I know this neighborhood!"

"Seven years? Hah! What are you talking about? I'm already experiencing the worst setback of my career!" Swindle made sure there were no oily organic residues on his rearview mirror and performed a full rotation of the part to recover from the wrench she'd given to it. At last deeming it to be properly looked after, he eyed the fleshy that was now peering curiously through the nearest window. "And the reason why we are in this disreputable section of your primitive civilization, is so you can retrieve my pocket watch!"

"Nothing doing," Cassidy tossed back without even glancing sideways.

Swindle's glare through his sensors was so fierce it almost became a physical manifestation, before he became contemplative. "You know… I have a few hundred sales items you haven't seen yet that I know would be just delightful." The femme stiffened in her seat. "I think I'll just have a look-"

"NO," the brunet shouted, diving on his radio.

In smug sing-song tones, he answered, "And the time-piece is found at…" The teenager clammed up. "Well, then… You know what I think you need? And it would truly compliment the look you have going for you now!" Before he could announce the next horror in his inventory, Cassidy interrupted.

"Look, pal," she began in coaxing tones. "Swindle, the reason I haven't told yah is because you've been less than truthful about what it does, or what you'll do with it… Heh, the thing could blow up the planet for all I know!"

Powering down his dimensional portal controls, he let out a snort. "It doesn't blow things up-"

Pouncing on his words, she demanded, "So what does it do?" Dead silence met her question and she shook her head. "And there's your problem. You don't trust people enough! In fact, I don't trust yah! Who's to say yah won't kill me as soon as I find it?"

"I wouldn't," the sales-mech protested.

Noticing the way every belt shrug convulsively at the end of that statement, Cassidy grew pale. She'd suspected, but to have it confirmed by so obvious a lie… She had to get out of here NOW! In an effort to confirm what was staring her in the face, she ominously countered, "A corpse doesn't talk!" Inwardly, her mind was abuzz with strategies she could use for every occasion.

Heaving a sigh, Swindle compromised, "Look, if I promise not to squish you, will you please retrieve the timepiece?"

'His promise doesn't omit other forms of execution,' she absently realized. Swallowing hard, the brunet recalled some hard won advice from her grandfather: 'When in doubt, play dumb. Yah won't believe the things people spill when they think they're talking to a moron!' Heart pounding heavily, she opted to do just that. Smiling beatifically at the machine holding her hostage, she chirped, "Really! Gee, that takes a load off my mind! Only, what if it hurts me? Or it could hurt you! What did yah say it does, again?"

"Customer confidentiality, kid," Swindle snapped, growing tired of the endless stream of questions.

Nodding and smiling idiotically, Cassidy's thoughts were a lot more calculating than outward appearances. 'So, you're giving it to someone else…' Sitting up, she was suddenly as energetic as a kid with a sugar-high. "Ok, I'll do it! I'll be happy to retrieve the pocket watch, only…" Abruptly she sagged and all her enthusiasm melted away.

"Only," Swindle prompted.

"It's going to cost money to get it back," the teenager explained apologetically. "You see, I was curious about where it came from, and I know a friend who's really good at finding out that kind of information."

"OH," Swindle interrupted, making her jump. "Why didn't you say so? If it's money you need, I can provide you with more than enough! How does one hundred dollars sound to you? I'll bet you've never seen that much money in one packet before!"

Cassidy's answering smile just barely hid her contempt. She'd seen plenty of hundreds, the pyramid scheme on the freshman class last year had generated twenty times that amount! She shut it down, mostly because she was bored. Of course, Weasel liked to say it was because the school authorities were closing in on her, but she preferred to stand by her own excuse. Lying like a pro, she bounced in her chair. "One hundred bucks! I can't believe it!"

"Believe it kid," Swindle lied cheerfully back. "Now, if you'd just tell me the address of this friend of yours…" He started up his engine and began coasting out of his parking place.

"Oh, um… Mr. Swindle," Cass clambered. She cringed at the extra loud rumble of a dissatisfied alien.

Despairingly he groaned, "What, now?"

Biting her lip to look more apologetic, she murmured, "My friend is sort of a conspiracy nut… He's completely convinced pod people exist, and aliens, and vampires… Having one of the three confirmed has kind of pushed him over the edge. If he sees a car drive up to his door, he'll freak out and not let anyone enter his apartment. He might even destroy his inventory, he's done it before!" Aiming a contrite glance at the car radio, she added, "Sorry."

Now somewhat suspicious, Swindle began, "So, in order to get my property back…"

Nodding sadly, though all the while she was dancing gleefully on the inside, the brunet confirmed, "You'll have to stay here." Not even daring to hold her breath, for fear of giving away how anxious she was for him to buy her story, she waited for the answer. 'Come on, buy the lie,' she silently urged. As the minutes ticked by, her spirits sank. 'Great,' Cass groused inwardly. 'Just my luck the dumb alien grows a brain now! There's no way even the dimmest animal would fall for this ruse, let alone some futuristic, high-tech, computer brained…'

"Ok, you can leave," Swindle suddenly agreed, jarring her from her negative thoughts. The nearest door swinging wide punctuated his invitation.

She could have kissed him, though such actions would have let the mook know something was up. Restraining herself from the impulse, she decided to further the lie. That meant insisting that he confirm that he really had the cash… which he reluctantly did. Then making him promise over and over again that he would stay right there, so she could locate him after the transaction with her friend. It also involved informing him about how she might be gone for a little longer than she said, because the old man she'd left the pocket watch with was lonely and tended to be hard to get away from when he got to talking. About the second time she requested the chance to see her hundred dollar reward, Swindle had had enough. "Would you get going, you crazy femme! Primus! You have to be the most insecure organic I've ever come across."

Gazing at the console of the Mitsubishi in feigned hurt feelings, she gave him an apology before backing out of his alt-mode. Then without a backward glance, she strutted confidently away and out of sight. Swindle let out a gust of air, sagging on his tires in relief. Finally, she was gone!

Then a niggling doubt showed up in his processor. Something about it didn't seem right. The 'Con paused, considering what just refused to add up. Puzzling over the conversation of the previous few minutes, he noted moments when the fleshy blatantly refused to look at him, and the moments when she had. He also recognized when her heartbeat and pulse had increased, noting it happened whenever she spoke to him. She hadn't done that before. Swindle wasn't a student of organic body language, let alone human, yet her words…

Swiftly accessing tracking systems, he focused first on locating any and all organics in the immediate area. Filtering out twenty-six birds, eleven cats, two-million bugs, two dogs, and fifteen lizards, he focused on one species. There were nineteen humans within his search grid. Eight of these were male, and five of the remainder were too old. He zeroed in further, isolating one single bio-signature trail that had wandered through a nearby building, up some back stairs, and higher still to the roof. All of this had taken ten whole minutes. Swindle vexed over the time lost. While fleshies didn't move very fast, they could still travel a fair amount of distance… just far enough to possibly get out of his weakened sensor range. At last, he found her.

Zeroing in on her bio signature, he considered her just as she hopped off of a narrow suspended metal bridge of some sort, and… Hacking into a nearby security camera system, he focused in tighter just as the organic turned around, unknowingly meeting his scrutiny head on. Wind rushed through a wild mane of artificial green and blackened gold, framing a mocking organic smile. He watched Cassidy swipe the offending strands out of her eyes and look over her shoulder warily. The smirk she wore when she turned back was as mocking as it was evil. With the precision of a dancer, the teenager confidently strolled toward the stairwell. Right before she wandered off screen, she mumbled one word: "Sucker…"

Automatic search engine already on the job, Swindle listened to it as he tracked her progress. 'Sucker: Definition 1. A young animal that has not yet been weaned. Definition 2. A machine designed to draw liquid through the use of suction…' Noticing that the fleshling was nearly out of range, and becoming more miffed by the second, he slowly began creeping forward. She had descended a staircase down past ground level now. Patiently, he followed her progress across the street, stalking her movements beneath the pavement. There were too many witnesses to transform, but oh, how he wanted to! 'Definition 4. A kind of hard candy adhered to a malleable stem, designed to melt in the mouth over an extended period of time. Definition 5. In slang terms, a person who is easily cheated.' Gradually cruising to a stop, his seatbelts at the ready, he stared fixedly at his monitoring system. Flexing his buckles expectantly, ready to cast them out at a moments notice, his anger wasn't so great that he couldn't recognizing the humor in this situation. For the first time in his life, he was fishing for fleshies.

_Meanwhile, beneath the sidewalk…_

"C'mon Gramps, don't steer me wrong," Cassidy whispered out loud. She had started out in the rundown slum that Swindle had seen her disappear into, but she hadn't stayed there. This was one of the old prohibition buildings, places where smugglers could carry booze without the cops being any wiser. Cass just hoped that the tunnel was as open today as it had been when her grandfather had first explored it twenty seven years ago. There was no way that stupid robot was stopping her now! Fully intending to celebrate that fact, it also didn't mean she wasn't kicking herself over forgetting her flashlight!

In all honesty, the brunet was ok with the dark. A select few people of her families acquaintance knew of the tunnel and had reinforced it's walls. So it was relatively safe… it was just the possibility of a black widow bite that had her mildly nervous. That was when her hand brushed over a slightly grimy metal door hinge. The grin that overtook her features could have competed with Swindle's in enthusiasm. One minute of fumbling and a set of stubbed fingers later found the knob. "Yes," she softly hissed, doing a brief victory dance. "Thank you Grandpa Caesar!" With a hard shove, the door slowly opened. Beyond the heavy barrier was a perfectly ordinary storm drain. It took a few minutes of blinking before her light starved eyes had adjusted. Then it was time to move.

Carefully sidestepping some shapeless sludge, she eyed the last step of the journey… a narrow little storm drain. The brunet winced. Oh, don't get her wrong, dirt never bothered her, and neither did the occasional creepy-crawly (with the exception of moths.) She had even crept down a storm drain once to retrieve a toy that had rolled in during the annual St. Patrick's Day parade when she was just a kid. Biting her lip, she switched her gaze from the narrow drain in front of her, to her chest. It was a lot larger than when she was ten. At last with a shrug and a muttered, "Oh, well… No pain, no gain," she set out on the last leg of her journey.

It was hard going. She figured that out when her front wedged firmly between gutter and sidewalk. Letting out a little more breath from her lungs she wriggled again and pushed with her feet all the while silently goading herself on. 'Come on!' (Oof!) 'I'm a Nulte!' (Ack) 'Pure Irish blood flows through my veins… with maybe a slight trace of German.' (Groan…) 'Would Grandpa let a little thing like a narrow storm drain get between him and freedom? Would Pop?' Feeling like she was abrading the skin right off of her front, she at last squeezed out of confinement. In fierce embarrassment, she questioned the air, 'And why did I have to take after my Great Grandma Ruby with the giant boobs? Seriously, all they do is get in the way! I have to compensate for every activity from Street Hockey to gymnastics!'

The brunet was completely unprepared for the long silvery gray belt that lassoed her from behind. Letting out a startled shriek at the unexpected binding, she grasped at the nearest solid object: a fire-hydrant. 'There's no way I'm going back,' she silently vowed as her fingers clung to the grimy surface in a near death hold. Nonetheless, Swindle's pull was relentless. It took two more belts and a stranglehold before the fleshies grip slackened enough that he was able to reel her in. Then it was locked doors and blackened windows as he rapidly found a new section of town to be. After all, it wasn't every day that a human got slurped up by a car.

"Ohhh, Sweetheart, you shouldn't have done that," the Mitsubishi tisked. "Now you'll miss out on all that money…"

"Screw you," Cassidy rasped weakly, "I've easily made that much in a day!" This was all the defiance she was able to muster with such a sore abraded throat. The brunet was draped unceremoniously where he'd left her, half on and half off of the bench seat in the back. Glowering as best she could at the source of all her trouble, she dragged breath after breath for her oxygen deprived lungs, firmly refusing to appear weak. Disheveled? Yes. Ridiculous? Well, yeah. But never helpless!

Wheezing out an ear popping laugh, he exclaimed, "A day? You aren't even a vorn old! Most human elders in your planetary population can barely amass half that amount in their short pathetic lives!" He huffed out another Cybertronian chuckle as he drifted back into his own speech.

Cassidy endured two more hot gusts of air from the hucksters air conditioning vents before losing her temper. "Believe it, pal," she snarled, struggling into a seated position. "I've earned a lot more than that! So you can take you're lousy hundred dollars and shove it up your-"

She broke off as a long gray seatbelt whipped around her and latched her securely into place. He was gratified when she flinched slightly at the movement. "I don't believe," he purred. "That you have anywhere near as much money as you say… because you were still living like a pauper when I found you." Smugly, he continued motoring through the city streets, ever on the look out for Autobots, or Decepticons, or even the possibility of organic law enforcement.

Smiling like an angel, if one didn't happen notice the murder in her eyes, Cassidy answered just as sweetly, "What could I spend it on? I'm too young to go clubbing. Hah, at this rate I'll probably be carded until I'm fifty! I can't travel to the other side of this city, let alone the country, without some cop thinking I'm a runaway! Electronics break under my fingertips seconds after I've purchased them… Money is worthless." She shrugged, mumbling, "Besides, acting's more fun than scamming any day."

"Bite your glossa," the Decepticon exclaimed, scandalized to his core. The idea of someone lacking greed to that degree… He shuddered all through his frame just imagining it. Rallying his enthusiasm, he exclaimed, "And there are plenty of things to buy!"

"Name them," the brunet challenged back.

"A mansion," Swindle began.

"Heavy maintenance," Cass countered.

"Servants," the 'Con tried.

"Loss of privacy," the brunet tossed back.

"Beach. Front. Property," he growled, flexing his buckles.

Cass blinked once, sensing his slowly fraying temper, before drawling, "Once surfing season's over? Boring." A smirk briefly graced her features at his grumbling.

"Spoiled brat," the Decepticon groused.

"Old fogy," Cassidy cheerfully insulted in return. At last feeling recovered enough from her ordeal, she leaned back in her seat. With calculating dark eyes, she considered the radio in the front of the car. 'This jerk has to have a weakness I can exploit,' she mused. 'It's just a matter of figuring out what it is and using it.'

Swindle resumed analyzing his actions. He had been defeated… by a fleshy… at his own game. How humiliating! Thankfully, the Decepticon was beginning to see a pattern in the botched ruse, one that was as simple as it was devious. To use his own greed as a weapon against him? Pure genius! Unfortunately, it meant he was back at square one. Megatron might have him executed, or worse, he could take away his inventory! Refocusing his sensors, he narrowly observed his captive organic. There had to be something she wanted! All he had to do was find it!


	16. Chapter 16

Confidence Game

Chapter 16: Roommates

By: Mooncrossed

_Happy Independence day! Whew, that took a lot of energy to scream at the top of my lungs… So, I hope everyone had an enjoyable weekend. I'd like to thank Screamer for her review (Cass is tricky, but then again, so is Swindle…), to dragonlover91, glad I could entertain you! (Swindle is a pretty clever mech. He just might figure her out one of these days…) I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, or The Truman Show. _

_Late that evening…_

"Welcome to Burger-Bot, home of the worlds biggest burger," a bored male voice sighed. Cassidy sighed back in mingled empathy. She was beginning to understand the truly bottomless depths of monotony found in a case of cabin fever. The menu board's juke-box lights flickered and gleamed through the dark into a pair of dull brown eyes. "Would you," the recording paused to make way for an expansive yawn, " like to know today's special?"

"Sure," Cass unenthusiastically replied. "What's today's special?" She was slumped against the driver's side door, one elbow holding her head up high enough to look at the machine that was the source of all food. Gold and red lights played over her features in an effort to make up for their spokesman's extreme case of disinterest. This was the veneer of normality that could be seen from the drive up security cameras. On the inside, however… Nine belts quadruple looped and tightened were securely fastened to her legs; they covered every inch. Cassidy sighed again. Arguing about her current situation didn't help, that tactic was what had landed her in this situation to begin with. In hindsight, attempting to climb out of the open window was a very bad idea.

"Well, there's the 'Little-Bot meal," the menu board began promisingly enough. Perking up slightly at the thought of having actual real food, she listened more closely. "Where everything is double and even triple dipped in oil to make the tiny tot feel just like his giant sized hero's! It comes with the triple fry burger, where the meat is dipped in batter once, then all sandwich contents are dipped again together, and finally the entire hamburger, breading and all is dipped-"

Cassidy's face adopted a distinctly green shade not unlike Swindle's paint job. Sending a desperate look to the radio in front of her, she whispered, "Do we have to go here? I don't understand how they even stay in business!" Leaning down, she attempted to scratch her ankle, but it was futile. Digging to China would have had more success. Despite this, she tried to worm a few fingers in between the multiple barriers of seatbelts interwoven over her legs.

"Until another restaurant chain gets the brilliance of going robotic, yes," Swindle answered in a high state of annoyance. "Now quit that!" Swindle let his displeasure be known in the form of constricting nylon, so she stopped. In frustration, he went back to hacking the simple organic computer. Normally, this would be a simple task. Of course, he usually wasn't dealing with the after effects of a paralyzing ray to his systems. Primus, how he needed a nap!

Cassidy resumed her childish sulking, uninterested in ordering any food. She didn't understand why he was so uptight about making sure she ate. 'Probably a ploy to make me think he's really one of the good guy's,' she derisively concluded. The armrest jogged her elbow impatiently and she resisted the urge to slam that same elbow into the seat behind her. Hitting never solved anything, particularly when you're opponent had a million belts at his disposal. Bastard. Focusing on the half awake menu board, she interrupted the spiel. "Nah, I'm not really in the mood for any of those things, sorry." Her forehead wrinkled at the momentary ludicrousness of apologizing to a lifeless object before an idea came to her. "Hey, do you have any water?"

"Yep," the tired male replied. "Three different brands… We have Sparklets…"

"I'll have that," she interrupted. "And um…" she trailed off, at a loss to find anything that was appetizing, let alone healthy. Abruptly, the tiny display screen on the front scrambled into robotic gibberish, displayed snow, and winked out of commission only to come back online. She blinked at the display. It contained an order for a hamburger, a fish burger, a veggie-burger… Then an order for soda appeared, and a milkshake, and still more. "What?" The only answer she received was a cheerful ding from the beset Burger-Bot drone. In seconds, the platform swung into the ground to reveal the fiberglass mockup of a robot with yellow light bulb eyes. Upon the tray that it held was a heap of greasy bags. "Thank-you for coming to Burger-Bot. Have a nice day," the mock up mindlessly droned.

"Since you haven't made a selection," Swindle replied, "And I'm sick of sitting here, this is what you're eating!" His belts all simultaneously flinched in annoyance as an organic grumble rose up from the lone human dwelling within his alt-mode. Redoubling his efforts, he hoisted what he could grab of the organic fuel with his manipulating coils and left the rest. Unknowingly, a small red-head of Autobot acquaintance was just rounding the corner and witnessed the entire event. Wide eyed, she took out her cell phone and began dialing.

Still grousing to himself, Swindle rounded the corner. He could man-handle the fleshy, he had no problems starving her, but that slagging fuel alarm of hers was driving him insane! _What kind of species needs to refuel more than once a solar cycle? Slagging ridiculous_, he silently complained. _The Caltori only need to engorge themselves once a lunar cycle, which is far more economical…_ Another tummy grumble interrupted his musings, making him twitch.

"But it's way too much food," Cass protested, still a bright crimson from her unintentionally rumbling stomach. Cassidy made a face as she beheld what the first fast food bag contained. She hadn't had much of a chance to see the list before all this food had been dumped on her. Carefully reaching within it's brown paper depths, she withdrew something sopping wet and heavy. "What is this?"

"The mega-burger bacon sandwich," Swindle replied. He was somewhat wary of staying in the general area because of the over abundance of security cameras. Slagging fleshies. Since he now had his windows safely closed again, the Decepticon decided to give her a little more freedom by unraveling the gray cocoon surrounding her legs. To his amusement, instead of leaping away like she had so often in the past, she began scratching her leg. Pure bliss dominated her features, until she heard him finish what he felt was a standup sales job. "It contains five times the normal allotment of grease, so it's nice and healthy! Go on, eat up."

She tried to hide the way her stomach turned at that lovely description as she eyed the heart-attack special resting on the center consol next to her. Ugh! Desperate to find something more appetizing in the mound of food before her, she asked about the first thing her eyes fell on. It was a clear plastic cup with pitch black gelatinous liquid inside. "Um… and the milk shake?" Cass squinted, "I can't even tell what flavor it is…"

Gritting his dentas, Swindle did his best to resist the impulse to just shoot her. Counting to a million in four point two seconds, he tried to picture all the benefits toward keeping this fleshy alive. _Credits… being back on Megatron's favorites list… finally leaving this little mud-ball planet for good. Surely that is worth an annoyance or two. I just have to keep focusing on the big picture._ Cass squirmed in his front seat, reminding him uncomfortably of a glitch mouse. His belts twitched. Shifting again, she reached for another fast food container. Somehow, he endured it. _Wait until after the time-piece is safely in servo_, he coached himself. Unknowingly, she placed a grease smeared hand on his center console. The huckster shuddered before concluding, _After that, I can flatten her!_ He took an intake of chill outside air, in an effort to not give in to his temper before he was struck by a revelation. _She must be trying to wear me down_, he realized, looking at her in a new light. _Annoy me to the point that I'll beg her to leave, or else cause me to slip up and make a mistake… Heh, clever femme_.

In the process of attempting to remove the nastier bits of grease from the bacon burger, Cassidy was completely unaware of the alien scrutinizing her. She made a face at the fake cheese and limp wet bacon, before deciding she might be able to eat the rest. There was no way she was touching the inky black drink until she got a little more information. Still, it might be a good idea to prepare for the worst. Digging through the pile quickly, the teenager held up a water bottle as if it was the Holy Grail.

_Maybe I'm being too harsh on the fleshling,_ Swindle mused. _After all, we did work out a truce of sorts… She promised not to attempt to dive out of my windows anymore, and in return I won't make her the first human mummified in seatbelts. Hey, it's progress! _He averted his optics in disgust as she took her first bite, before heaving a sigh through his vents. It was just that he was so fragging tired!

While it was true that he was most of the way repaired from his paralysis, his energy levels still weren't quite as high as they should be. Add in the unexpected workout he'd received playing fleshling retrieval, and it was no wonder he was about ready to drop. That was why, when the light changed to green, he cut across two lanes of traffic going in an odd direction. _Wasn't there an alley right along here… Ah!_ _It's secluded, there aren't any organics around, and there's a slight depression for a loading dock midway down. Perfect!_ Backing up, the Mitsubishi dimmed his lights, though the low throaty growl of an engine could still be heard. A loud slurp filled the air, causing a pair of windshield wipers to twitch uncontrollably.

Cass scowled at the nasty taste of the 'Tar Shake.' Yes, she had found a label for the mystery drink, and yes, it really was as nasty as it sounded. Dropping the malted drink into the nearest cup holder, she dove on her water bottle like there was no tomorrow. 'Yuck,' was Cassidy's main conclusion after that particular taste test. 'Man, was that stuff rank! Note to self, expose Burger-'Bot to the newspapers in their obvious efforts to poison the public!' She paused in her mental rant as a new sensation crept through. Her eyes widened before she put the water bottle back, swallowing hard. In retrospect, maybe drinking all that water was a bad idea. The brunet opened her mouth to try to make a special request, only to snap it closed just as quickly. Pink stained her cheeks, 'Did Cybertronians need to use the little Bot's room? He might not even know what that kind of stuff is… What if I have to explain it?' There were very few things that made Cass blush, yet this was one of them. Finally concluding that there was no helping it, and rapidly organizing her thoughts, she took a deep breath. Then the engine cut out.

Blinking in the almost total darkness of opaque tinted windows and evening darkness, she wondered why had he stopped all of a sudden. Even when the alien was parked, there was a hum of some kind, but now? No lights, no sound… nothing. Subtly, she tested one door. Brown eyes lifted toward a gray felt ceiling in exasperation, 'Figures he would keep his doors locked even now. Guess it's too much to hope for a dead battery!' Since Cassidy had a very immediate reason to escape the confines of her automotive prison, she undid the ever present grabby seatbelt and reached out to the other car door. 'Hey, you never know,' she humorlessly mused, 'It might work.' Just before her hand could brush the other handle, her seatbelt whipped to life and strapped itself back over her hips and chest snugly. The brunet involuntarily squeaked. That didn't help a full bladder!

"Oh, no you don't," the Decepticon stated, activating a single yellow light. With his ever cheerful selling persona firmly in place, he stated, "You're staying right here where I can keep an optic on you!"

"Swindle, I need to get out," Cassidy protested, pulling one of the straps aside. Like a snake, it bunched and coiled, before returning to it's original position… right between her breasts. Gold flecked eyes glared at the radio corrosively before the brunet muttered under her breath, "Perve…" Setting to work in a different direction, she tried to explain a phenomenon that was both urgent and embarrassing in the extreme. "I need to powder my nose, visit the cat-box," she gave the alien dashboard a pleading look, hoping he'd figure it out without her actually having to say it. "You know, use the little girls room?" She half whooped in alarm when the chair fell back flat and six more belts pinned down arms, legs, and neck.

"Well, I need to recharge," the 'Con announced with a slight edge of anger creeping into his perpetual good mood. "I can't exactly do that if I'm chasing you half the night. Besides, you don't have a cat, and you don't need to wear makeup around me. You're pretty as you are, Sweetheart." With an air of finality, he powered down his dashboard lights.

Cass craned her head up, despite the way the nylon dug into her throat, and stared incredulously at the darkened console in front of her. 'Ok,' she silently fumed, 'Plain English is obviously the only way to go with this moron!' She might have been more polite if he wasn't squeezing her. "Listen, yah bucket of bolts. I mean I need to…"

Every light in the little car illuminated with sudden blinding brilliance and her seat snapped upright again. "But if you really want a room that's just for girls…" Superseding his words, a gaping rift opened up right beneath the teenager. In seconds, the seat was empty and the belts retracted, with nothing but a startled shriek to indicate that anyone had been there at all. Just as quickly as it had opened, the artificial black rift closed. Swindle stretched slightly on his chassis as he settled comfortably down for a long uneventful recharge. He felt confident she would stay in one place, _Heh, how could she escape? Thank Primus for subspace!_ Portable spatial pockets were sure to be all the rage in a few mega-cycles, he'd downloaded the schematics personally and was certain to make a killing on the sales floor. With visions of high end credits dominating his processor, he happily powered down.

_Meanwhile… _

Cassidy screamed in outright terror as she fell from an artificial hole in space, only to land hard on a pile of junk. For a long, still moment, she didn't move. The truth was, Swindle had no true understanding of the world he had unintentionally molded within his subspace. Devices the salesman picked up might contain a seed or two, and with the several millennia worth of dust accumulated from previous acquisitions, had had a rich soil to take root in.

Sensors informed him of the atmosphere that had developed, but instead of being dismayed, he had twisted it around into a viable money making opportunity. Tiktri Forest Worms, far and wide considered a rare delicacy by numerous organic species (as well as several other saleable finds), quickly found a home in his extensive inventory list. There were, however, many other kinds of fauna he had no clue about. Coleri razor bats that had not yet hatched, residing comfortably within a plasma gun handle Swindle had discovered while raiding an old crash sight… A pair of purple phantom birds, so unusual for their odd talents at phasing their molecules when they felt threatened, suddenly deposited into an artificial world along with the tank gears they were hiding in… There were so many others spanning the stars for thousands of generations.

Was it truly so odd that a human had fallen from the sky? All there was to do, was scatter, ascertain whether the new arrival was dangerous or edible, and continue with life as usual. Various different creatures that called this pocket dimension 'home' considered the phenomenon before resuming their normal activities.

Slowly, the brunet lifted her head, momentarily surprised at how lightweight she felt. What greeted her wide brown eyes was a world bathed in purple light. Everywhere she looked was garbage. It blanketed the landscape, stretching on for as far as the eye could see. There were spires, great piles of debris taller than the empire state building. The only reason she had gotten out of that fall without any worse than a few bruises was that she had landed near the top of one of those majestic skyscrapers. Turning her head, she could identify, knives, cog wheels, giant futuristic guns, and thousands of other machinery and parts she couldn't begin to identify. She guessed that was what the rest of her surroundings consisted of.

Looking up, revealed nothing but an endless sky, the kind found in a child's fantasy of lavender fog and fairy tale dreams. A scowl crossed her face. As of now, there were two possibilities: either she was unconscious and lost in a nightmare… (A quick pinch on her arm negated that theory), or Swindle had done something to her. Squinting, she attempted to peer further into that distant sunless air. All she gained from the exercise was eyestrain. There wasn't any trace of a ceiling. Swallowing, she considered the object under her sneakers. It was large, flat, and made of some kind of shiny blue-gray metal. Only then, did she recognize that her impromptu resting spot was a massive high-tech wing.

On rare occasions, when there was absolutely nothing else to do, the gang would rope her into a movie night. Each of them had their favorite genres. Iris, being the gothic queen that she was, always wanted to watch a dark romance. The Weisel twins could be counted on for anything containing explosions and car chases. Harriet adored films with hot male actors, and Griff tended to side with Lani (her only real blood relation in the group), voting for swashbucklers. Sometimes, though, Weasel won the fight, and he always picked classics. There was one particular old favorite of the narrow boned blond that was becoming all too similar. It was about this poor bastard who hadn't known his entire life was being filmed for public entertainment. In fact, everyone he knew was a paid actor, manipulating him for good or ill to bring in the ratings. Even the town he lived in was a massive, high-tech movie set with an illusionary sky… Oh, what was the name of that flick?

Deciding it was irrelevant, she instead went back to studying that endless haze up above. Cassidy highly doubted Swindle was secretly a creepy reality show film director, but likewise, there was no way there could be this much light without some kind of star to back it up. At least, she had never heard of it. So therefore, it was probably artificial. Remembering all the weird appearances of random objects, from giant worms, to makeup supplies also lent credence to her theory. Those things had to come from somewhere! Looking around at the endless trash heap stretching away for miles, she could put two and two together. This was the place where he got all of his stuff. Was it so unreasonable to assume that he could just as easily put things back?

And now she was getting a headache. This light purple sky, while pretty, was really starting to hurt her eyes. Despite how ridiculous she felt, despite the fact that there wasn't anything even vaguely resembling a camera, she still had to try. "SWINDLE," she shouted. Nothing but an echo replied. Still, Cassidy pressed on, her fear and anger adding volume to her cry. "If I don't get out of here SOON, you're going to be very sorry!" Cass stomped one foot down on her unlikely perch like a petulant four year old, producing a hollow rattling thud. With an alarming groan that made her stagger in surprise, the broad shiny silver wing tilted slightly to reveal a lovely twelve story drop. Thinking fast, she just barely managed to reach a different section of wing, then held very still. The sound of bending metal died down as the pressure on an outer strut alleviated slightly. Cassidy shifted again. Like a teeter-totter, the wing rose majestically to become level again. She let the breath out of her lungs. "Right, now to find a way down," she told herself, carefully searching the tower of trash for handholds.

Now, Cass didn't realize it, but this particular section of Swindle's pocket dimension was already under ownership. It wasn't large by Cybertronian standards, in fact, it was hardly any bigger than a human. Just as it was coming back from a hunting foray into the industrial jungle for a little sustenance for it's future brood of hatchlets, it saw a strange ugly creature standing on top of where it had hung it's nest. That just wouldn't do. So, dropping the Tiktri forest worm from it's clawed grasp, it descended from the sky to protect it's future offspring. An expanding shadow took shape upon the shiny metal seeker wing, one of ragged wings and claws. With every passing second, it became bigger, and bigger, and bigger. Cassidy just barely dove out of the way with a shout. The flying thing, which looked like a giant hairy feathered bat screeched again in rage at the creature that was so near her nest, and wheeled around to make another pass.

Cass didn't have any clue why the creature was so angry, she just knew she had to escape from it. Turning her head hurriedly, she saw that the other end of the wing was buried in a wall of automotive garbage. Even better was the slightly flat portion on a tank tread right next to it, the perfect sidewalk. It wasn't until the seventeen year old was a few feet down, precariously balancing on top of what looked like a giant magic eight-ball (it did have a little window), that she looked back. The weird bird thing settled down by it's toes, hanging from the underside of the wing. Next to it was a slimy dripping net filled with… Her mouth twisted in disgust. "Eggs? A bat that lays eggs? What kind of freaky place is this?" Since the alien animal was looking at her in an extremely unfriendly fashion, she continued on her way.

As the brunet continued to traverse the landscape of artificial ground (She had to crawl to avoid beheading herself on a samurai sword as big as a football field), and the not so artificial (she carefully sidestepped a vine which shivered as she stepped over it), Cass realized a few things. Facts such as… she had no idea where she was. Actually, she doubted anybody aside from Swindle knew that she was here in this alien oubliette. If he decided to forget about her… A shudder ran through her at the thought of spending the rest of her life trapped in this place. Escape had to be her top priority. Loud ticking filled the air, and the kid's eyes widened. Buried within the ever widening wall of machine parts was what looked like the exposed workings of a clock, one that was the size of Big Ben! It was while she was staring at the shiny gold surface of a rhythmically ticking cog taller than your average apartment house that her second epiphany became obvious: she still had to pee.

She managed to make it halfway down the mountain before she couldn't hold it anymore. Desperately, Cassidy searched for someplace with cover and finally found it. The machine was huge and square, with a long serrated sword that looked too big for any Transformer she'd ever heard of jutting out above it. To Cass, the square part reminded her of an oversized clothes dryer that had been painted a funky shade of magenta, while the serrated weapon overshadowing it looked like the worlds most dangerous diving board. With a mixture of annoyance and urgency, she began hobbling toward it, wary of the locals. 'Whatever,' she decided. 'As of now, it's a bathroom!'

Squinting, Cassidy looked up at the pure purple sunless sky. She knew she'd been here for at least three hours, but the light hadn't changed. There were no shadows because there was no sun. It was just an endless purple sky and junk piles as far as the eye could see. There wasn't even any wind. With a sigh and a mental shrug, too tired to attempt physical gestures, she mused, 'At least there's breathable air. Why whine when I'm still alive?' Continuing to try to cheer herself up, she attempted to look upon her circumstances positively. 'And, yeah, so I'm stuck in Swindle's trash heap of lethal weapons, so what? I'm using muscles that haven't had a good workout in days, I'm in a place you're average nerd would be willing to kill somebody to get to go visit…'

Her mood plummeted again as she arrived at a necessary problem: How did she get out of here? Swindle might forget where he left her. She knew computers, or at least how fragile they were. They were always crashing, or fritzing out, or just plain breaking. Swindle was a walking, talking super computer. Who was to say that the huckster might have a sudden memory lapse over one particular piece of information, like where he'd last left her? Resolve hardened her features. No, she refused to be an unsolved mystery. One way or the other, she was getting out!

Just as she was straightening her clothes, there was a sudden loud squeaking noise. Whirling around, she saw some things that looked really strange. There were about four of them… and they were cute. Looks wise, they were almost like puppies… Well, if dogs were greenish brown, hairless, and covered in skin frills. One of them hopped forward, blinking beady eyes in curiosity. She gazed back, dubiously. It looked like a dog, but with a frogs face. Then they all began hopping her way! Cass backed away; what if they were poisonous? The wall of machine parts nudged up against her back. Still they kept coming. That was when her hand touched something small and sharp.

Flinching her hand back, she quickly glanced at it. Then she blinked. It was a sword… at least it looked like one. More importantly, it was human sized, as opposed to gigantic! With a grand flourish, she removed the weapon from the pile behind her, ignoring how a few random objects came crashing down and breaking in the process. If she was expecting fright however… The nearest amphibian sniffed in curiosity at the weird shiny thing being waved under it's nose. Others looked on for a moment, before also approaching, skin frills that resembled webbed ears perked up in interest. One licked it. Cassidy pouted, coming to the conclusion that she had to do something a little more violent to get them move out of the way. So she waved it wildly and yelled at the creatures hoping to scare them. Instead, she got confused alien expressions followed by a chorus of happy croaking. They were watching her superb sword swinging like a ball at the tennis match!

The girl slumped and studied the small grouping of… amphibians? Mammals? 'Whatever-they-were's,' she finally decided. Apparently the vast majority of the group no longer considered her interesting, because they were moving on to bigger and better activities, like sniffing the ground. All that was left was one single frog/dog sitting on it's haunches and panting it's toothless mouth. "Well, go on," she ordered, waving her makeshift weapon. "Shoo!" Instead of being a helpful little alien, it rolled over on it's back, exposing it's round pudgy belly. "Oh, you've got to be kidding," she exclaimed. Round wet eyes gave her a beseeching look as four fat padded feet waved up at her.

A frown stole over her features. She didn't even know how to look after a dog, let alone an alien. These things probably ate house pets for all she knew. The creature squeaked, wondering why it wasn't getting a tummy rub and she smiled despite herself. It was even more disappointed when she chose to simply step over it instead. "Now, let's see," she began speculatively. "I'm going to need food," she ignored the little alien that was following her. When it accidentally lost it's balance while attempting to traverse a half buried robotic helmet and went tumbling past her, she rolled her eyes. With a croak of alarm, the frog/dog rolled up mid-fall and bounced along the makeshift path like a little green ball. At the bottom, it unrolled and shook itself before giving her a playfully oblivious look. "I'll need food and water," she reiterated, "And man, am I tired!" Undaunted, the animal proceeded to lead the way, happy to pretend to know where she was going.

_On an out of the way alley, some time around 2 AM…_

Swindle onlined to the sound of sirens… but not any of an Earth design. There was a nuance to the mournful scream that instantly reminded him of home, of Cybertron… of Autobots. Already cursing his weakened sensor net, the huckster brought up a visual in time to witness a large red semi-truck arriving at the top of the alley. _Just what I need_, he silently fumed, eyeing the behemoth that blocked half of his escape routes. Surreptitious scans didn't reveal much, but he'd be willing to bet a sizeable chunk of his yearly income that there were a few more 'Bots hiding just out of sight in the other direction. Continuing to play the inert car, he watched the Prime creep ever closer to his position. _Maybe they don't recognize me yet? I did change my outer appearance from a yellow S.U.V. to a dull green Mitsubishi Gallant…_ Blinding yellow spotlights zeroed in with startling suddenness.

"DECEPTICON," the eighteen-wheeler bellowed loudly in Cybertronian. "We know it's you, Swindle! Release your hostage and come out with your weapons powered down now!"

"Scrap," the Mitsubishi mumbled, before his tires spun hard enough to produce smoke. Speeding past two-hundred mph in six seconds, he just barely made it past a blockade of sentient vehicles. "Heh, amateurs," he muttered only to spin out in a state of alarm and pain. Before he could stop himself, he jumped the curb, slamming aft first into a stop light pole. For a long painful moment, Swindle couldn't see. He felt, more than heard something heavy fall on his rear window shattering glass. Adding to that the fact that the Autobots were slowly approaching his prone form, and it didn't look good.

Prowl and the others watched the Decepticon that was parked half on and half off of the sidewalk warily. He hadn't yet drawn a weapon to fire on them… but anything was possible. The ninja fingered the throwing star in his servo, the other one of this pair was buried in the Mitsubishi's rear tire. Optimus rounded the corner with a gout of diesel smoke, transforming as he drove. With his pedes planted wide and his axe at the ready, he announced, "Now that we have you're attention… let the organic go!"

A pained groan rose up from the little green car, the first sign that he really was exactly what they said he was. Then he shifted, and legs dropped free from underneath Swindle's form, followed by twisting gears. A whine of hydraulics and shooting sparks announced the emergence of a torso and arms. Ratchet found himself wincing at the sound. He didn't feel sorry for the fragger, he was a slagging 'Con, but it was still agonizing to watch. At last a head emerged into existence with a spray of sparks. They all re-aimed their weapons.

The huckster opened his optics to an unhappy world of gun barrels and badges. Still, he attempted a modicum of innocence. "Organic? I have no idea what you're talking about!" Swindle grimaced as another spark arched out of his left elbow joint, before looking up at Optimus with a boyish grin. "As you can see, I don't have any on me… I'm just a simple business-mech, Honest!" He squawked in surprise when one out flung servo was roughly jerked behind his back plating. The little manic yellow Autobot called to someone named Prowl to help him and the tall thin mech with the throwing star silently stepped forward, stasis cuffs now in servo. "I'm telling you, I'm innocent in this! Don't you believe me?" His smile faltered slightly at the grim expressions covering every 'Bots face. "Guess not," he mumbled, pouting.

_Meanwhile, In Swindle's subspace…_

There was one thing she found near the ground that looked… interesting. It had a series of buttons that were just the right size, as in, no bigger than her hand. Painted black and about waist high, it was as long as a coffee table. In fact, if she used her imagination, she could almost claim it was a giant television remote, if one happened to ignore the two shiny silver spikes sticking out of one end. Walking around it, she inspected the device from all angles before glancing at the little alien. Rover blinked at her once, his slippery green tongue lolled out. So she felt like naming it, so sue her! She couldn't keep calling the hairless scaled doglike alien 'It' all the time. Besides, anything that looked this freaky needed a boring name to even out the weirdness.

In all the time she'd been here, and it felt like hours, she had only come up with one plan. That was: cause so much trouble that Swindle would have to let her out. Just the thought of being left here, stranded anywhere for that matter, with no hope of ever getting out? Cassidy shuddered. Perhaps it was a little reckless of her to risk death due to misfire from some random alien super weapon, but she was desperate! So she had experimented. A giant ray gun looked impressive, but she had discovered that the trigger was too stiff for her to fire. The giant swords were off the list for obvious reasons, but this… Running a hand along the smooth surface, she felt the chill metal against her skin. She took a fortifying deep breath, then hoisted herself onto the surface.

With a dancer's grace, she lightly picked her way between the various buttons. "Now, let's see," she wondered out loud. "Which one might mean ON." There was no telling what this thing would do! She just hoped it wasn't a detonation device. Again, she weighed the pro's and con's of activating a weapon that might kill her, versus eternal exile on this alien trash heap. No friends, no family, just her, the junk, and alien animals to keep her company until she died. "Right, so button pushing it is," Cassidy declared out loud. Eying the nearest row of color keys in front of her feet, she decided to go with the scientific method. "Eeny, meeny, miny…," she stomped down on 'Moe.'

A very low electric hum began under her feet. She hadn't been blown into little bits… so far, so good. Of course, if a giant television screen switched on in the midst of the trash pyramid in front of her, she was reserving all rights to throw a tantrum. Thankfully, when she unscrewed her eyes, this wasn't the case. Nothing seemed to be happening. The humming grew louder, then louder still until it was vibrating under her sneakers. Shuddering began deep within the giant controller, increasing in volume until it was chattering her teeth. Deciding that it might be a good idea to run for the hills (the incredibly filthy artificial hills), she turned to jump down, when something caught her eye. Was it a flock of bats? Squinting, she raised one hand to try to see better.

It was only when nearby bits of junk and metal flotsam began slowly pulling toward her that she realized what it was that she was standing on. A magnet… the thing was a freaking super magnet! With a clang that made her stagger, one sword, three blaster cartridges, and a chunk of armor attached themselves to the front. Suddenly, the hum changed to a whine and the armor slowly warped her direction. 'Why…,' one look down answered her question. She was standing on another button. "Whoops," she squeaked. So that meant that the cloud approaching wasn't a flock of bats, it was… Dreading what she'd discover, she nervously squinted into the distance before her eyes bugged out. "OH MY GOD," she shrieked. Cass was seconds away from being buried under however many tons of metal that represented. Hurriedly, she searched for an off switch, but all her panicked brain could register was that none of it was in English.

Praying for dear life, she dove on the next nearest button. The noise changed from a loud hum, to a quiet buzz, to silence. Cassidy swallowed, her heart in her throat. Careful to avoid touching any more buttons, she slowly crawled to the edge of the evil remote control. Smiling to herself, she realized that her chances had paid off. He was sure to have noticed this, which meant that her visit to the land that time forgot was soon to be over.

Much more upbeat, she cheerfully commented to the small amphibian turned temporary pet, "Well, that was fun, wasn't it Rover?" The small green alien gazed sleepily at her, yawned, and went back into his ball form. For the first time since this entire kidnapping thing had begun, Cassidy smiled. This wasn't the usual, all teeth showing, picture perfect grin she had perfected in front of the mirror. It was a genuine, lip quirking fey smile inherited straight from her Grandpa Caesar. She had learned at a fairly young age that that expression was so mischievous that she often got in trouble whether she deserved it or not. Thus, the need for deception.

Just as she started to make her way off of the crazy device, it jumped. Yelping, Cassidy lost her balance and fell to the ground hard. That buzzing noise was beginning again, louder than ever. Climbing to her feet, and cursing machines in several languages, she looked around. That's when she realized that that cloud of metal in the sky was still there, hovering. In horrified fascination, the brunet studied it. Ray guns, swords, even an unconscious transformer, all floated eerily within. Backing up nervously, she scooped up a now slumbering ball of frog/dog. All she got from it was an oblivious murmur, not that she was concentrating on it. She didn't have any idea what the controller would do, but it was a cinch she wasn't sticking around to find out. Deciding that behind the prongs was the safest direction to travel, she resolutely turned to go do exactly that. Then she paused, the buzz had turned into a deafening whine.

That was when the real excitement began. The magnetically held cloud shot off into the distance as if fired from a cannon. She cringed at the distant crash of several metric tons landing upon the weapon strewn land so many miles away. Then every piece of metal attached to the metal spikes on the front of the controller ricocheted, slicing through the trash heaps at blinding speeds. Cassidy stared, wide eyed with shock, as mountain after mountain of ancient trash piles shuddered under the repelling force of the controller. Animals, flying creatures, even a few primitive robots, fled in terror as a landscape of proud artificial spires flowed away from her in one continuous, ever expanding wave of destruction.

_Detroit, the warehouse district…_

Swindle was experiencing indigestion. _Oh, sure_, the Decepticon glumly mused as his servos were forced painfully behind his back_. It might be because I'm getting arrested for the second time in as many months, but I doubt it._ Prowl, the only cycle-mech in the Autobot group, removed a bright shiny pair of stasis cuffs from one of his compartments. Seeing them, Swindle offered a humorless sneer. "Nasty things, stasis cuffs," he informed his impromptu audience. "Make a mech feel as weak and useless as a glitch mouse." A sigh gusted from his vents when his statements garnered no sympathetic reactions, before he grimaced. The cool, negatively charged metal of the shackles had just brushed against his wrists. _Ugh! How it made his circuits crawl!_ This was a preliminary taste of what was to come. Still, he felt pretty ill, like his tanks were churning just a little too much. Talk about odd… being taken into custody had never given him this reaction before. That's when internal alarms began going off in Swindle's processor, followed by an ominous rumbling noise.

The Autobots surrounding him tensed and re-aimed their weapons as the thunder continued to grow louder. Was it coming from up above? Bumblebee squinted at the night sky, warily. It would be just like Starscream to show up at a time like this. Others continued to study their captive, expecting some new trick.

Decidedly out of sorts, Swindle squinted one large purple optic shut. He wasn't sure whether he was about to malfunction, or purge his tanks, or what? Abruptly, his subspace pocket sprang open releasing his electro-nuclear magnet (guaranteed with a thousand year warrantee and compressed into an easy handheld device), which jumped violently into the air fully charged. It was pure luck the thing was aimed away from him when it arrived. As it was, the Decepticon barely caught it. The 'Con watched in stunned surprise as every Autobot before him flew back with the force of an invisible explosion. After some fast juggling and the hurried push of several buttons, the huckster finally had the silly thing powered down.

Letting out the air in his vents with a relieved whoosh, he then surveyed the damage. What a mess. The nearest light pole was bent sideways, it's light sputtering and sparking from stressed systems, while a geyser spewed water almost as tall as him where a fire hydrant used to be. Swindle thought he could see a pair of red painted pedes resting limply amidst a pile of rubble from what used to be a bakery window, so that accounted for Optimus… and the green servo sticking out of a massive pile of broken bricks identified where the biggest one had gone. It was while the Decepticon was scanning the immediate area for the other three that the first damage reports came in, and kept coming, and coming, and not ending. At first he was aghast. A query confirmed his worst fears: nearly half his inventory was destroyed. As he stood there, thousands of credits worth of damaged items scrolling past his optics, a rarely seen expression gradually superseded his normally cheerful face, one of growing rage. He had a sneaking suspicion on who was responsible for this travesty.

_Meanwhile, in Swindle-land…_

Groaning, Cassidy lay on a ground covering of car parts and dirt, gazing at a hazy purple sky. She was sure she had just found the off switch… well, the humming noise had gotten a lot softer. Then the remote had bucked like a horse, before vanishing out from under her. That was how she had arrived at her current position, flat on her back, most of the air knocked out of her lungs… and where was Rover? Slowly, she sat up, trying to ignore how her back crackled. 'Ok, no weird aliens around whatsoever…' Wincing at a particularly loud spinal pop, Cass just wished she was back in the real world again. Her adrenaline rush was going down, making her feel more exhausted than ever before.

That was when the air behind her ripped apart and a huge clawed servo snatched her off the ground before she could do more than yelp. Opening her eyes, she was greeted with the familiar face of Swindle, or not so familiar. There was no smile this time, in fact it was now a glower. Optics that were normally bigger than skylights were now thin catlike slits, and his face was glowing! Cassidy didn't know how he had done it, but the metal on his visage was now a deep cherry that reminded her of a blacksmith's forge. Lets not forget the loud thrumming growl vibrating the air. She gulped.

An odd whirring noise invaded this little stand-off, and grateful for the distraction, Cassidy looked down. There was an open drawer sticking out of the robots upper torso, and in it was an up high view of an endless junk pile. She could even see a few of those freaky killer bats flapping chaotically past. Wide eyed, she watched that view get smaller and smaller, until with a click, the drawer closed hiding it from sight. One single alarming realization came to her, 'I was in his chest? That is just all kinds of wrong!'

Metal fingers inching closer together reminded her sleep deprived brain of a more immediate problem, one of the robotic variety. Swindle wasn't talking. For a guy that could never seem to shut up, it was a very bad sign. Her heart hammering, seeing her life flash in front of her eyes, and trying to convince her frozen brain to think of a plan, any plan, all she could do was stare at him wordlessly. The servo holding her, ominously tightened just a little more…


	17. Chapter 17

Confidence Game

Chapter 17: On the Lam

By: Mooncrossed

_Hey guys, thanks for the reviews! I'm trying to come up with a nice 'brief' description to put on my profile page, but it's hard. I'm not sure what to say without revealing too much personal information. Thankfully, Weasel showed me how to access it. Beyond that, this chapter was really fun to write. (I love writing action scenes.) I'd like to thank Mikoto-chan92 for her review, (Happy you are anticipating the next chapter), and Kai-Chan94 (Glad you're enjoying it). I prayed that God would help me to get this one ready really easily, and He's come through! Hope you like it. I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, Jeeps, Harley-Davidson motorcycles, or Lo-Jack._

_In one of Detroit's seedier neighborhoods…_

Swindle was contemplating murder. What few sensors he had installed in his sub-space indicated that a great many of his most valuable belongings had been obliterated, or at least damaged to the point of non-salability. He would have to spend deca-cycles repairing what could be salvaged, and time equaled credits. All of this was down to one insignificant little Cassidy Jane Nulte. Talons itched to spring free and his servo tightened a bit more. Currently, there was a wagering of odds going on in his processor. It was: The value of the fleshling, versus the net value of viable products she had just destroyed. Robotic fingers twitched again making her squeak. The odds weren't in her favor.

Before he could exercise his new organic stress ball, two things occurred. Firstly, Swindle's inventory self-categorization finished, and secondly, his sensor net informed him of the Autobot standing directly behind him. Spinning around, he plastered on his most charming smile, somewhat hampered by his obviously overheated systems. "Ah! Good evening friend! Sorry about that little misunderstanding there, just a misfire from my electro-nuclear magnet. No hard feelings?" Tall and thin, the Autobot who had all the armor configurations of a motorcycle did not look convinced. Picking up the pace, the sales-mech talked faster, "Of course, if you are looking to buy such a useful piece of merchandise, I'm more than willing to…"

"Let her go," the motorcycle flatly stated in Cybertronian. His voice was crisp, containing an accent more commonly found in the Iocon Towers. Long narrow helm tilted, narrow blue visor aglow, and containing not one iota of expression, Prowl waited.

"Right, well…" the huckster began, slightly startled. Purple optics took in the slim police bike from helm to pede. Call him paranoid, but there was something that didn't seem to be wired right with this 'Bot. Swindle glanced down at the organic that was still safely trapped within his servo. He could have kicked himself. According to his sensors, only three Autobots were confirmed to be out of the fight. Two of them were in stasis lock and one was almost offline, but that still left two more unaccounted for. _Well lucky me_, he sarcastically thought, _I've found one fully functional Autobot. I'd celebrate if my systems weren't so fragged up. Time to improvise, and this human had just been promoted back to hostage._

Cassidy looked back and forth between the two aliens nervously, not understanding a word of the cyber-babble they were using. Two minutes ago, the brunet thought she was about to die, but then this guy showed up. He had blue eyes, that meant she was about to be rescued, right? An abrupt shriek tore free when the strange robot aimed a karate chop for Swindle's servo, the one that was currently occupied. The shyster holding her captive just barely leaped back in time. Peering through a mess of tangled curls, the brunet had to wonder, 'What is he, crazy?'

As he backed away, Swindle was wishing he'd kept his electro-magnet on. _A thing like that would come in awfully handy right about now_, he reflected longingly. Unfortunately, despite it's power, it had one major flaw, the thing needed at least half an hour to properly charge up.Unnerved by the silence, the Decepticon relied upon his most prized possession, his voice. "Woah, hold your thrusters," he exclaimed in Cybertronian as he ducked another swing. "Obviously, we've gotten off to the wrong pede here. The little organic and I were just having a discussion." His purple optics widened when the tall thin mech casually ripped a light pole out of the sidewalk, spun it a few times, and advanced.

She was freaking out. Cassidy always used to like kung-fu movies. Who didn't? As the psycho robot approached again, optics aglow and long metal pole cutting through the air like a fan blade, she decided those kinds of flicks were officially on her dislike list. With rapid movements, Swindle tucked ducked, and rolled, barely avoiding a swing the Yankees would have recruited the Autobot for without hesitating. For the seventeen year old, it was a high speed nightmare roller coaster. Moving so fast that her world was a blur, all she could focus on was the pavement rushing toward her. Wind rushed into her ears, her hair flew wildly, and she swore she came close enough to kiss the sidewalk. Then it was up in the air just as swiftly. Distinctly green, the brunet concentrated on containing the sour taste that had just entered her mouth.

All the while, those huge metal fingers wrapped around her body from shoulders to heals kept jerking tight and loosening over and over. The more pessimistic side of her was counting the minutes until she gushed like and overripe tomato. 'And let's not forget our rescuer: Silent Bob,' Cassidy sarcastically introduced the ever speechless Autobot as she scowled up at him. 'How does he think this is helping? Maybe if I offer pointers, I'll get out of this mess.' Her kidnapper twisted to evade yet another swing, and Cassidy took her chance. "Start talking to him," she bawled. "Negotiate first, butt-kick second!"

Instead of listening to her, the mystery mech lashed out in a downward chop. Swindle grunted as he barely caught the light pole before it could impact his helm. With one shaking servo, he barely held it away from himself. The other servo was unfortunately already occupied. "You aren't helping," the 'Con-mech groused in English, his perpetually smooth voice strained. Having the full use of both servos, the Autobot had no problems pressing the advantage. Slowly, the stick of metal warping with force, the weapon descended for the huckster's unprotected faceplates. _In retrospect_, the huckster reflected, _maybe I should have invested in a face mask like my brothers after all._ Before it could smash into his visage, he ducked to the side and let go, allowing the primitive light pole to clang harmlessly into the ground. He took full advantage of this moment to RUN!

Fear fueling her anger, she railed back, "Should I be? You aren't exactly one of the good-guys!" Cass let out a startled oomph as she was jounced along in one fisted servo. Back and forth, back and forth… he rapidly moved his arms as he tore like the Pit across the slums of Detroit. Squinching her eyes shut, the brunet mentally groaned, 'Ok, now I'm feeling sick again.'

A few seconds later Swindle plastered himself behind a building barely much taller than he was, venting heavily. Carefully, he peered back the way he'd come… nothing. Slumping in temporary relief, he let out a whoosh of heated air, before glaring at the fleshy. He still hadn't forgotten what she had done to his inventory supply. Abruptly his sensor net pinged indicating a large object coming in at high speed… Letting out a Cybertronian curse, the huckster barely leaped to the side before a servo could be sheared off, the one occupied by a fleshy. Presenting Cassidy with an up close view of the solid metal Circuit-Su weapon embedded in the bricks where she had just been, he demanded, "Does THIS answer your question?"

Staring at the throwing-star (and wow! It had to be the size of a beach ball), Cass came to a few new realizations. One: The so called 'good guy' was a raging psycho, and two: Swindle had all the fighting talents of a newborn kitten. "Right," Cass replied, blinking. "Ok," she began as she looked up at him desperately. Now that she was more focused, it was rapidly becoming obvious she needed to stick with Swindle. He might be a villain, but at least he was sane! "Change of plans. I want yah to follow my directions."

His optics boosted to their absolute magnification, Swindle was devoting most of his energy to peering into the darkness. So, at first her words seemed ludicrous enough that he felt certain his audio receptors must have glitched. "What?" The fleshling repeated herself, and he sneered at her disbelievingly. "You're joking! A few seconds ago, you were encouraging him to offline me!"

"Well, you were planning on killing me," she countered. As he raised one optic ridge and looked like he was giving that idea some serious thought, Cass swiftly changed the subject. "But let's get beyond that. What I want to do is survive! Don't you? And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I'm a better fighter than you."

The laugh he wheezed out was genuine, long, and heated. "Wh-what?" More heated air rushed out mockingly as he temporarily forgot his predicaments. "You know more…" Whoosh! "What could you possibly know about Circuit-Su?"

Looking increasingly bored with his posturing, Cassidy lounged in the robot's palm. With more patience than she felt necessary, she waited for him to finish his laughing jag. At last, the brunet blandly replied, "Circuit-Su? Never heard of it. But dirty street-fighting? Oh, yeah!"

In the midst of carefully peering around a feebly made organic wall, Swindle rolled his optics at her claims. _She has to be really desperate to escape my company if she's making wild claims like that, _he mused. A sneer briefly flickered over his faceplates. _Then again, I don't want to be here, either._ Slowly, he crept out of hiding. _What I'd really like is a street that doesn't have debris on it. Knew I should have downloaded that backup file on jeeps._ Continuing the conversation with his captive, he mocked, "As much as I'd LOVE to see you go up against one of my kind in hand to hand combat…" He paused a moment to picture the lovely image of the organic getting squashed flat before he gave her an amused glance, "Sadly, I can't. You're the one thing keeping me from a violent offlining, kid."

Cass snorted. "I don't mean it like that! I'm talking about coaching yah through this…" She broke off as she heard a distinctive electronic buzz hum through the servo holding her. Cringing, she expected to feel the huge metal fingers to crush her to death any minute, only blink in surprise. Instead of squeezing, or raising a futuristic weapon, or any number of other typical killer robot activities, the Decepticon flinched holding his back like an old man. A few seconds later, sparks spat angrily out and he growled something foreign. "Seems to me," she commented, "yah might need a little help."

Groaning, Swindle opened his optics. His HUD was sending out warning after warning about everything from overstressed gears to broken wires. This was really the worst time to have a fight. A wince stole over his faceplates at a particularly violent discharge. There was an enemy somewhere out there, but fragged if his systems would deign to tell him a slagging thing! Besides, there was something about the other mech that just didn't sit right with him. It was almost as if he had some sort of processor damage…

An organic throat clearing nearby reminded him that he had an audience. "You're going to coach me," the huckster disbelievingly questioned even as he slowly straightened and began creeping along the debris filled lane. "How? I have news for you, Sweetheart, Cybertronians have been fighting longer than your species has even existed." Swindle peered around another corner, before hustling down another street. "We've perfected it to a fine art form," he continued. "So, unless you happen to have some high tech weaponry or a sensor system that rivals a battle cruiser…" His smile clearly stated that he doubted it. "I'm afraid you're fresh out of luck."

Up until this point, the brunet had been resting her elbow lackadaisically upon a metal finger that was one foot thick. Now she tensed. A new sensation was washing over her… that kind of instinctive, hair raising, adrenaline pumping, rushing chill that only spelled one thing: danger! She didn't even pause to think, just shrieked out one word, "DUCK!"

Not even pausing to question (his sensor net already ablaze with belated warnings), he did just that. After all, the only information his sensors were failing to provide him with was where the fragger was. He didn't trust her, who could? But as it stood, she did have a point. 'Rescue the squishy' was probably not on this 'Bot's to-do list. Milliseconds after he'd dropped, a resounding clang filled the air, followed by a rain of debris. Just as quickly as his assailant had appeared, the Autobot vanished. The Decepticon vented heavily, eyeing the deep jagged slash in the bricks where his head had been, before glancing down at Cassidy.

Removing the hands that were protectively covering her neck, the brunet gave her captor a raised eyebrow. "Yah believe me now?"

In a weird parody of her facial expressions, he raised one optic ridge right back. "How did you do that?"

"Instinct, Hon, pure instinct," she drawled, before becoming abruptly serious. "And don't change the subject. Do we have a deal or not?" For a long tense moment, the pair studied one another. At last, she was gratified to see the 'Con favor her plan with a grudging nod.

"Deal," he sighed. Plastering himself up against the primitive organic structure known as a housing tenement, he reflected, _And now, back to current business_. Optics nervously flickered as his sensor net scanned an area that was barely bigger than the corner he stood on.

Though she hated to admit it, there was no denying that she was having the time of her life. Maybe all the hand holding was a little too… mushy… for her preferences. She grimaced as the servo around her tensed with barely restrained bone-crushing force. No, what she liked out of this situation, was the danger. Sure, she probably wouldn't survive, and yeah, her life had flashed in front of her eyes more than once, but she was ok with that. Cassidy craned her neck as she attempted to look around Swindle's windshield decorated chassis. 'Yeesh, might as well be trying to see around Lady Liberty's chest! Heh, gonna have to ask him what bra size he wears,' she silently mused. Giving up on her attempts to see around the pectorals of doom, she started studying other things. The street layout around her, the location of several manhole covers. 'He might be able to throw those,' she speculated. Still trying to think on a more massive scale, it took her a moment to see where they were headed. "Oh, great," she groaned out loud.

"Now what," Swindle demanded, his nerves frayed and his circuits not far behind. Was it any surprise that his normally suave demeanor wasn't present? With a scowl on his faceplates, he lifted his hostage up to more clearly study her.

"These building are perfect for pouncing off of," she announced, pointing. In apologetic authority, she shook her head. "Sorry I didn't see it sooner."

Already studying the structures above and around them, the Decepticon gritted his dentas. _She's right, frag it_, he realized. Studying his surroundings, he could only curse his luck. Making a successful wheeled getaway was out, the pavement was too full of debris. His only options were running on his own two pedes, or standing and fighting. Apparently, the Autobot didn't think they were moving fast enough, because he appeared again, like a narrow black shadow. The organic shrieked 'Jump' just his opponent struck out with a low sweeping kick. Swindle only barely made it, stumbling clumsily sideways in his efforts to avoid another strike. Just like before, the Circuit-Su master vanished as quickly as he'd come. Blinking, he came to a realization that was as annoying as it was alarming. He was a few steps further toward the box canyon of tall organic dwellings that was so obviously a trap.

"Now don't panic," Cass cautioned him. "We can still get out of this mess…"

"I would if I still had my fragging scatter gun," Swindle groused. The Autobots had removed it when they were prepping him for arrest, and after the magnet disaster, he had no clue what had become of it.

"And you depend way too much on guns," Cass countered. "I want yah to continue walking toward the psycho's playpen, and… try to be casual about it, almost clueless. You're good at that."

Aiming a glare at the fleshling for her backhanded compliment, Swindle muttered a derisive, "Gee, thanks." Nonetheless, he complied. As he walked, he tried to imagine himself as he was back in the old days, just a youngling out for a stroll along one of Kaon's busy city streets. No worries, no problems, just an average Cybertronian out on a pleasant evening. Amazingly enough, the femme was feeling relaxed enough to have a conversation.

"So," she began, trying to distract herself from the dizziness induced from swinging along in a giant metal fist. "Yah don't duke it out much, do yah?"

It took his search engine mere seconds to translate the rough slang in the organic's speech into something understandable. He blinked, torn between insult at what she implied and amusement at her casual disregard for the danger he posed to her. Deciding to take a middle ground, he dryly answered, "I would have to say 'no' to that one. War is good for business, but terrible for continued health. Usually, I don't participate, because there's just not much profit in getting slagged in pointless battles."

Back in her old pose, her chin resting in her hand and an expression of affected boredom written on her face, she muttered dryly, "Uh huh, sounds fascinating…" Completely at odds with her posturing, she tapped his servo with her other hand just out of sight. At his glance, she gave an offhand toss of her head to the side. He followed the gesture and his optics gleamed. Up ahead was an alley. In the seconds before they reached their exit, silence seemed to grow like an impenetrable cloud. "RUN," she suddenly yelled.

You didn't have to tell Swindle twice, he was moving. Something landing heavily behind the sales-mech only sped him faster. Racing down the narrow opening, optics a brilliant shade of nearly white lavender, his vents huffing scorching hot air, and internal alarms flashing red across his vision, the huckster moved. Cass just hung on for dear life. They burst out of the other end of the alleyway straight into oncoming traffic. Drone vehicles swerved wildly and horns clamored as late night commuters desperately tried to avoid crashing into towering metal legs. Instead, they crashed into one another. The huckster hesitated, tempted by the open road just beyond the eleven car pile up.

Guessing his intensions, Cassidy shouted, "NO! Keep moving forward!"

"There's a building in the way," Swindle protested. Despite this, he kept running toward the office building across the street. Wickham Attorney and Law, the sign proudly displayed above the miniscule organic entry.

"Hasn't stopped you guys before," Cassidy quipped as she braced herself for the inevitable crash. The world swirled in a variety of colors as her ride leaped like a hyper-active gazelle.

Landing heavily enough to leave twin craters in the courtyard beyond, Swindle had to pause a moment to recalibrate systems. His body really didn't like that maneuver. Purple optics squinted open to give his organic guide an exasperated glance. In accusing tones, he commented, "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Despite all the warnings flashing across his processor, he began the arduous task of climbing around the five story apartment complex in front of him.

"Sure," she replied sounding nothing if not amused. "You're doing all the work." At her offhand gesture that he should keep going forward, he growled and kept running. Thankfully, this one was easier, just a few grassy lawns and a low fence to traverse each time. Now they were on a new street, one with twisty curves and drooping shade trees. His wheels involuntarily revved at the sight of it.

"Don't even think about it," Cass warned. Swindle vented harshly in annoyance. She was silent for a moment, mostly because it was somewhat harrowing to be dangled over a tile roof by a giant robot. Finally, he managed to hop his way back onto solid land with barely any damage to the stucco single story the Decepticon had practically had to do the splits to traverse. Then it was back to running.

Yapping excitedly at the giant metal pedes invading his yard, a small dog immediately gave chase. "Dumb mutt," Cass commented lazily from her high vantage point. "Ok, now here's the fun part. I want yah to think of a number between one and ten." She bit her tongue as she was none too gently jogged when he sidestepped a kid's swing-set. Once she'd delivered a healthy death glare, she asked. "Yah got it? That's how many more blocks yah have to go before testing out your tires."

"Fun? This is insane," the Decepticon groused. "And why do I have to reach a random street?"

"Because the guy chasing us is a professional," the brunet answered. "His type are always predictable, they've been trained not to have an original thought without feeling guilty about it!" She cringed through a near collision on the next street they came to, not resuming until they were safely in another back yard. "Thank God we aren't dealing with an amateur," Cass added. "Then we'd be in real trouble. As long as we stay random, he can't get ahead of us. Besides, he's probably slowed down by that traffic jam back at the first street."

Hustling and leapfrogging his way across four more blocks, Swindle at last hit a snag… in the form of a swimming pool. He had been glancing over his shoulder at the time, and Cassidy's warning came a little too late. All the 'Con knew was that he suddenly found himself falling a lot further than he'd anticipated. A colossal splash rose up and he found himself up to his chassis in water. No amount of clawing and kicking could remove him from this little disaster, not without both servos anyway.

For Cassidy, it was a world of churning black water and thrashing piston legs the size of tree trunks. She could barely see, and the clawed metal fist keeping her down made it even worse. Suddenly, she was free, and kicking as hard as she could, she broke through the surface with a choked gasp. A huge metal arm slammed into the water near her, creating a temporary whirlpool effect and dragging her under again. This time, she nearly got overwhelmed. At last, gasping and sobbing, she made it to the pools edge and weakly pulled herself up and out. Judging from the cascades of water and continued thrashing as well the huge clawed servo that suddenly slammed several feet deep into the concrete in front of her, she wasn't out of danger yet. With shaking arms and legs, she crawled until she couldn't hold herself up anymore, and there she stayed.

'This isn't as fun as it started out,' Cass dazedly reflected, weakly clinging to a deck chair to stay at least marginally upright. Tears continued to stream from stinging eyes, and she cursed the owners of the pool for having the gall to install one right where they were running. A cough rasped stingingly from her throat, she wiped her nose. 'And for using way too much chlorine…,' she silently added, glaring weakly up at the single story bungalow in front of her. Well, at least that nasty alien perfume was gone. At least… she couldn't smell it anymore. As a matter of fact, Cassidy couldn't hear anything any more. Right about the moment the somewhat drenched teenager was considering attempting to remove herself from the area, if only to dissuade a certain Decepticon from taking her hostage again, a huge black clawed servo scooped her up. She yelped in alarm at the unexpected elevator effect and clutched her stomach.

Uncaring, Swindle quickly clanked out of organic suburbia. Sensors informed him that a certain mech with an all black paint job was finally catching up with him, and he was reluctant to renew their acquaintance. His pedes hit asphalt and the 'Con leaped into action, transforming in record time and vacating the area at close to one hundred miles per-hour. Cassidy, now safely tucked into the front seat, studied the road behind them with sharp brown eyes. The unknown Autobot was no-where around.

_Meanwhile…_

Slowed down by the traffic jam, and subsequent organic police, fire, and news crews upon the scene, it took a moment for Prowl to sort out where his prey had gone. One officer chattered something at him, rather angrily he thought, and for a moment he wondered why the words were unintelligible. Then he brushed the thought aside. Only the hunt was important, the other matters could wait until later. With cool precision, the Autobot scanned the area, his battle computer in full control. The roadway was too congested in either direction for the Decepticon to have left by that route, therefore, logic dictated… An emotionless robotic face focused on the building directly ahead. Seconds later, he was air-born, leaping over the obstruction of organic structures. He had no idea what it said, the words on the sign were pure gibberish…unimportant.

Upon the other side, he was gratified to discover evidence that his theory was valid. Two footprints were gouged into the decorative flagstones, and up ahead were some faint claw marks indicating that a servo had briefly touched that roof. With rapid movements, Prowl jumped and flipped his way over the multi-storied organic dwelling to the other side. What he found was a wide, unassuming street. Would the 'Con have taken this route, or continued on to the next block. Looking left, then right, he contemplated the dilemma while simultaneously accessing his memories. At first, the Decepticon had seemed inept, easily defeated. He frowned. Then, for some reason, Swindle had seemed to pick up in intelligence, anticipating his movements and proving to be an unexpected challenge.

A niggling doubt, some remnant of forgotten memory attempted to make it's self known. Something about a youngling… and the Decepticon. Pain flashed through his processor and he clutched his sensor horns in agony. Something was wrong with him, he wasn't sure what, but logic dictated he seek out the nearest medic to have himself examined. Just as he was turning to go do exactly that, an unexpected splash reached his audios from some distance away. He turned his head, his optics gleaming an unnatural shade of diamond blue. If his calculations were correct, that object would have to be traveling at a good fifty miles an hour and equal the exact mass of his prey. Medical worries forgotten, Prowl sped in the direction of the noise. Barely pausing at a private organically made underwater recreational facility just long enough to note the deep talon scratches in the concrete, he sped on. Somersaulting seventeen feet in the air, he landed catlike upon the pavement beyond. The wet smear of tire tracks left a telltale report of his quarries whereabouts, so transforming, he gave chase.

The trail disappointingly ended at an intersection two blocks further. No further water droplets stained the ground, not a trace of exhaust drifted on the air. Prowl became bi-pedal and slumped, his optics dimming. He had failed. It was only then that he realized his comm channel was beeping. Accessing the rather insistent link, he cleared his vocals but was interrupted before he could respond.

""Prowl," Ratchet rasped distantly. "Answer me, frag-it! The whole planet's gone nuts and you're out gallivanting around with that Decepticon!… Get out of my face, you blasted camera drone!" Static obscured the line, before the doctor came back sounding as weary as his long life demanded. "…Teams down, I repeat, everyone is incapacitated. Bulkhead's in stasis lock, Bumblebee's too damaged to be of any use, and I'm barely keeping Prime functional! We picked a Pit of a night to make Sari stay back at the base! I repeat, get you're aft back here now, or so help me…"

"Acknowledged," Prowl interrupted, ignoring the medic's answering stream of curses. Transforming rapidly from an overly thin, scarecrow of a mech, into a sleek Harley-Davidson motorcycle, the Ninja-Bot spun into a complete one-eighty and headed back His holographic form briefly activated, but it was wavering erratically and fluctuating. Just as rapidly, it vanished. 'The image is poor,' he reflected, even as he picked up speed. 'Why on Cybertron would I wish to have it on when it is such a flagrant waste of energy,' he wondered dismissively. Still puzzling over this mystery, he made his way back to the on sight medic, though in truth, most of his processor was calculating the next attack plan toward removing a certain Decepticon from the playing field.

_In other news…_

Cassidy sank back in the driver's seat, breathing hard. Water flowed off her hair in rivulets and there was chlorine up her nose, but at least the seats were comfy. Trying to ignore how the upholstery squelched, she twisted around again to see if they were being followed. Aside from her gasps for air, the only sound penetrating the midnight dark was the rumble of a car engine. She smiled slightly as she considered the softly glowing radio. 'For once,' she reflected, 'the silence isn't tense… A little buttering up wouldn't hurt though.' Clearing her throat, she offered a verbal olive branch. "Hey, um… Thanks for saving me back there, and… you know." The unspoken end of that sentence was the phrase, 'And not slaughtering me in horrible, unspeakable ways.' Suddenly feeling shy, Cass gazed out the window.

After a moment, the console lit up with blinding good cheer. "Hey, it was the least I could do since you saved my spark back there. As they say: I'll scratch your back if you'll scratch mine!"

She stared with wide eyes at that mental imagery. "In that case, remind me never to scratch yah. Those claws of yours could induce nightmares." The engine growled extra loud and the entire car jumped like it was going over a speed bump. Tensing up, Cass wisely changed the subject. "By the way, kudos for not destroying that lawyers office back there." Giving him a sly inquiring glance, she fought to hide her smile. "Was it professional courtesy?"

A snort escaped his vents, even as he finally located a low enough fence to step over. Before him was the open road of a residential street. "Something like that." Seatbelts slithered from their housing and strapped the sopping wet human down securely. "Crazy femme…" With casual negligence, he sped to well above eighty mph on the suburban street. If his maps were still accurate, the highway should be just beyond the next intersection.

Her eyes bugged out at the experience of sharp nylon digging through wet clothing. This was followed by a scowl as she realized the seatbelt was in the process of abrading wet skin. 'Just when I thought we'd gotten past this,' she silently groused, counting to ten. The tug of the seatbelt over one boob wasn't helping matters. 'Try to remember that he could easily kill me,' she coached herself. 'He may be a pervert, but he's also a walking death machine…' Cassidy sighed, with an effort holding back the verbal explosion that was longing to be unleashed.

Instead, she addressed a different grievance. "Look, couldn't yah just use plain English? Don't get me wrong, your patter is pretty interesting, but I think I've misunderstood over half the things you've said. If it's any consolation, I'll try not to use euphemisms. God knows I've paid for it." Mildly embarrassed, she occupied herself with picking off lint from the seat cushion next to her. Thanks to this, she now had another experience that was to be avoided at all costs, her surprise exile through the hucksters black hole. Landfills were now on her list of top ten least favorite places to visit. 'Still,' she considered, attempting to look on the bright side. 'At least I have a good excuse for my car fear now…'

Swindle's CPU was already leaping ahead to the next page. "Like before," he exclaimed, "When you were talking about cats and powder! I still haven't found explanations for them on he internet."

Cass blushed, which was a feat in and of itself. Usually, she was pretty good at disguising her emotions, but not over something like this. "Yeah, you probably won't. I had to, um…. pee." Her voice squeaked embarrassingly on the last word and she spent a moment trying to regain control of herself. As the silence drew on, she became more nervous still, until everything else came out in a rush. "And it's not polite to talk about directly, and I was trying for polite…"

"POLITE?" Swindle sputtered incoherently for a moment in Cybertronian before dropping once again into English. With incredulity, and perhaps just a touch of anger in his perpetually customer friendly voice, he accused, "You insulted me!"

Gritting her teeth through tightening seatbelts and wildly swerving driving maneuvers, she answered, "If you'll recall, I only did that after you'd strapped me down, and I was in pain. I was doing everything I could to contain myself, and you were… Ugh!" Shuddering in disgust at the memory, she couldn't even bring herself to say it. Finally settling for a vagary, she explained, "I thought I was gonna explode!" Crossing her arms over the seatbelt testily twitching away on her person, she glared at the radio in front of her. In calmer tones, she added, "If I'd let loose, I doubt your reaction would have been pretty."

The Decepticon was quiet for a long moment, processing this. A few miles went by of pure darkness, penetrated only by alien headlights. She wondered where exactly they were headed. It definitely wasn't the city any longer. 'As long as he isn't trying to find someplace to hide the body, I'm happy,' Cassidy silently decided. That was when the car abruptly swerved hard to the right, slamming her into the door panels. Everything came to a screeching halt. For a long moment, all that could be heard was ragged breathing. The sudden click of a door opening and swinging wide filled the night.

"Do you need to lubricate now," Swindle's voice pleasantly enquired. The long thin safety harness over her lap and chest released themselves and recoiled smoothly into their housing. "I don't mind waiting."

Staring first at the dashboard, then at the darkness beyond the open door, Cassidy was filled with longing. She could step out….wander around like a reluctant puppy, then run for it! Oh, it was so tempting. He wouldn't like her answer. Finally deciding to bite the bullet, and hoping it wasn't going to be literal, she reached out and pulled the door closed. "Not anymore," she announced, her face now a distinct shade of embarrassed cherry. Swindle's stunned silence spoke volumes.

"I tried to hold it," she protested, "I really tried, but I was in there for hours and you wouldn't answer me! There's no way I'd ever want to do something like that in there, but I had no choice." The Decepticon's quietude continued, with nothing but twinkling console lights to indicate that anyone was still listening. Already anticipating the worst, Cassidy sagged against the plush living cushions. She had walked who knew how many miles in that alternate dimension, she had almost been eaten, squished, karate chopped, and drowned. Now that her adrenaline rush was finally wearing off, she could feel every bruise and bump from those nighttime adventures. Added to that was the likelihood that she was going to take a dirt nap any minute now, and it was no wonder she felt sorry for herself. Hoping to buy herself at least a little pity, she pathetically moaned, "I'm so tired."

At last making up his CPU, the Decepticon reversed gears and drove back onto the highway. "I believe we should make a pact," Swindle announced, his tone for once completely serious. "To remain as blunt as possible to avoid any future… mishaps."

Sleepily, the brunet nodded, before belatedly realizing that that might not translate. "Yes, sir," she added. The console hummed in response, or maybe that was a normal robotic bodily function noise. Watching the speedometer climb, Cassidy quickly donned her safety harness. Then she just sat. 'It's sort of pleasant, sitting here all alone…' Outside of her own influence, the wheel spun making her blink. 'Ok, maybe not completely alone,' she amended. For once, though, the silence was peaceful. Any and all remaining tension had vanished completely. Her eyelids drifted shut, only to flinch open. Still the same old car, still the same impenetrable dark. There wasn't any sudden drop, or a world of endless trash heaps and man eating monsters. Relieved, she slumped back against her chair. He might be a bad-guy, but at least he had cushy seat cushions. A thrumming engine drew her into dreamland once more. Jerking awake with a start, her heart hammering loudly, she again looked around.

He could only endure so much of this twitchy organic behavior before he had to do something. Swindle had no idea why the femme was so jumpy. Of course, if he'd had a little more recharge time, he probably would have put two and two together easily. It was just that everything ached! There were dents and wire-pulls in places he didn't even know existed! Add to that the nervous fleshy in his front driver's seat, and he was one unhappy mech. So, it was no wonder that he took the first exit he came to.

Alien shock absorbers on a dirt road jolted Cassidy awake at the first bounce. After an abrupt tailspin, brakes set and the engine fell silent. Trying to shake off her exhaustion, the brunet squinted sightlessly into the night. A wall of blackness obscured everything, she couldn't even tell if it was due to otherworldly windows or the time of day. She rolled her eyes, 'At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to hole up in a cave somewhere.' Amazingly enough, the door obediently swung wide at the pull of the handle.

Blinking sightlessly, and yes, it really was that dark outside, she started to put one foot outside to climb out. That was when the door slammed closed so forcefully, it almost turned her into a cripple. With a squawk, Cassidy just barely rolled back into the living vehicle. Locks thumped home an instant later. "Yeesh," she groused, glaring down at the radio. "Swindle, if you're that worried about getting stolen, buy a LoJack! I just wanted to see where we were."

Console buttons flared to life. "Hah! Don't insult my processors! I have anti-theft equipment that is far superior to that design, and for you're information, we are at an area that I believe your kind refer to as a 'rest stop.' Something you need, and I'm desperate for a recharge." The chair she was sitting in swung back hard enough to rattle teeth. "Now go to sleep!" With that, all systems shut down leaving total darkness.

Blinking wide eyed at a car ceiling she knew had to be about four feet above her, Cassidy considered her situation. She was tired… but the brunet doubted she would be able to sleep here. Memories of a disturbing quality often became nightmares, particularly if she was sleeping in the same place where they occurred. Yet… should she dare to disturb a giant robot that she had managed to enrage, not once, but three times today? Cass knew there was a limit to his good will somewhere… Decisions, decisions… Chair springs flexed behind her back and she shuddered. Maybe if she was just really sneaky, she could get away with it.

'Yeah, that might work,' Cass encouraged herself. She tried to remember where everything was. 'Let's see… The center console should be right over here!' Her sharp nailed organic hand located the living plastic barrier and patted along it's dimensions cautiously. 'Ok,' the teenager continued to herself as she carefully rolled until her knee rested comfortably upon the top of it. 'Next there are the front seats!' A little blind fumbling located those just fine in front of her. 'Yes! Now all I have to find is the bench seat cushion, and I'll…'

One sunshiny yellow light powered on, accompanied by a voice that was the height of exasperation. "What ARE you doing?" The fleshling yelped in surprise at his sudden intrusion and went tumbling. He honestly couldn't take much more of this scrabbling and squirming around. Hadn't she said she was in need of recharge, or were his audios glitching at that exact moment in time? When the only answer he received was a pained groan, he demanded, "Well?"

Swallowing hard, Cassidy struggled to roll into a sitting position from her location on the floor in front of the back seats. "Um… the driver's side has bad connotations for me," Cassidy explained in embarrassment. Even though she couldn't see anything but that tiny gold light at the front of the car, she suspected Swindle could see a lot more. Feeling mortified, she looked at the ground as she mumbled her request. "I'd just feel a lot better in the back, that's all… please?" This was a new experience for her, being blunt about every little thing. Sure, she knew how to be truthful. She prided herself on being one of the most honest people in her family. Being blunt, though… she grimaced at the thought. Usually there were any number of phrases she could hide behind, it was the proper way to talk. People understood you, and there was no need to go into any deep meaningful details. Admitting she would probably have nightmares about killer seatbelts and bottomless holes if she slept in the front driver's seat? Yeah, it was a real hit to her ego to admit it, especially to him.

Almost as if it was blinking in surprise, the single light flickered. Then what sounded like a sigh gusted from the air conditioning vents. Creakingly, the reclined front seat Cassidy had been resting her hand against slowly straightened. Not one to test her luck any further, the brunet quickly scrambled around and happily stretched out on the bench seat. 'On a list of limited options,' the brunet reflected silently, 'This is something I can live with. I'm just grateful that I'm short enough to be relatively comfortable back here.' After a moment, the single yellow light powered down. Together, human and Cybertronian peacefully napped away the rest of the night.


	18. Chapter 18

Confidence Game

Chapter 18: Partners?

By: Mooncrossed

_Hi, guys! Sorry for the longer than average wait. This chapter was a real bear-cat to type up, so I am most definitely dedicating it to God! To Pikaseel: thanks for the compliment! I've never really thought of Cass as being brave, but I guess she is. To Screamer: Yay! You're back! Sorry to hear about the restrictions your folks placed on your internet time. As to the story, I'm pretty sure the only reason people go to Burger-Bot is the robot theme, not the food. And yep, Prowl did show up in the nick of time. Glad you're enjoying the show! I don't own Transformers or Mitsubishi. _

_The Autobot Base, mid-afternoon…_

"Hey, Prowl," a youthful organic voice squeaked from the vicinity of the floorboards. "How is he now?"

This was the question the tactician was greeted with as he exited the Autobot infirmary. Large deep red eyes gazed up at him pleadingly from a tiny organic face. Sighing, he readjusting his newly installed language parameters. Ratchet still had no idea how the ninja had done such extensive damage to his programming, repeatedly cursing every time one of his circuits shot sparks. Truthfully, he didn't know any better than the doctor. He had been standing behind the source of the blast… His sensors could detect nothing striking or disrupting his systems… So how could he have suffered any damage at all? Deciding to puzzle over the question at a later date, he instead focused on the only organic resident of the Autobot base. "Optimus will be fine, Sari," he reassured. "Your key healed him, as always."

The nine year old red-head considered the object hanging from a cord around her neck. It was a key, but one so artfully designed and alien looking that it didn't look like anything more than decoration. Sari remembered when it used to be a dumb old security access keycard at her dad's office building. After her encounter with that All-spark thingy, it had turned into something cool! Now, instead of being a flat rectangular piece of plastic and barcodes, it was twisted, looking like a cross between a computer chip and a skeleton key. What was even better, was the fact that it could somehow repair 'Bots instantly! She didn't know how it worked, only that it did. Sometimes she worried that the only reason why the Autobots wanted her around was because of it. 'But that's ridiculous,' she argued with her inner doubts. 'They're my friends!' In an effort to distract herself, she asked the normally taciturn motorcycle, "But if he's healed, why hasn't he come out yet?"

Prowl stalled in his silent retreat deeper into the Autobot base. Slowly, he turned his dark helm. "Because he worked himself to exhaustion," he patiently explained. "You're key heals physical damage, and it does a fine job correcting glitches… but it doesn't repair poor judgment. Ratchet is looking after him as we speak, and it looked as though Bumblebee will be up and about soon as well as Bulkhead. They will keep you company."

That said, the tall thin Autobot continued toward his quarters. He had a lot of processing to do, mostly over his previous behavior. No, his actions against the Decepticon were justifiable… he merely found a certain amount of remorse in his activities toward the organic that was being held hostage. It was still a barely discernable memory, but the fact that he had not cared for any of the life-forms around him was disturbing on a level that he'd never felt before. _

_Somewhere in the forests outside Detroit, Michigan…_

Daylight arrived with a cheerful clamor of birds and rampant sunshine. Not that Swindle cared. His frame merely took advantage of the solar rays as he slumbered peacefully on. Now, if anything arrived that was bigger than say… a bear, the Decepticon would leap awake with a vengeance. So far, though, nothing had. He'd been dead to the world since 2 AM, and wasn't likely to come out of recharge until well after the lunch hour had come and gone.

Cassidy, his erstwhile human companion, was also snoozing away. She'd twitched in annoyance as the bright sunshiny morning had invaded, but an arm flung over her eyes had solved that. She was so tired, in fact, that she hadn't felt the squirming in her hip pocket. Registering that the scary moments had passed, the tiny creature heaved and wriggled until a small alien head poked out. Bright midnight eyes peered around curiously. At last confirming visually what his other senses had told him, the small green creature squirmed some more until it plopped out into the open air. Once there, he spent a moment huffing in air and spreading his back frills, until he looked twice the size he had started out as. Now the third player in this odd little drama, one alien house pet named Rover, had joined the party.

Gazing around warily, the little hairless four legged critter had barely taken two steps along Cassidy's leg before encountering the first thing that was different about this world: sunlight! What had just touched his face? It felt warm, but to a being that had known soft purple light all his life, it was a very painful experience. Squeaking, he toppled to the ground with a clunk. Once there, Rover croaked in contentment as the dual shadows of the bench seat and the front seats engulfed him. Now this was familiar! The ground was hard and metal… Wait, there was soft fuzzy stuff all over it! Was it good to eat? A wet sniff proved that, no, it didn't taste good, but it did smell like home! Contentedly chirping, he rolled on his back, paws waving in the air.

Once he had rubbed scent-flakes down to tell others not of his pack that this was his territory, he stood up again. All that was left was the dilemma of Warm-Thing. He studied the teenager up above him. Warm-Thing was funny, it had waved a metal stick around and hooted! It had carried him around for a while, so therefore, Warm-Thing was nice. When danger had happened and the ground shook, Warm-Thing had also provided him with a soft warm cloth hole to hide in. His face broke into a froggy grin and he started panting. That meant Warm-Thing was his friend! Bounding up to the slumbering human, he nudged one dangling hand. There was no response.

Sprawled out in a way that only a teenager could be, Cassidy was lying on her back, one arm draped over her eyes, the other hanging limply over open air, and both legs flung out in odd directions. She was an alarming sight! Let's not forget her gaping mouth, the drooling problem, and the fact that her thick brown hair was now permanently fused together by the chlorine bath she had experienced the night before. If Swindle had been awake at that moment, he would have tossed her out of his alt-mode faster than you could say 'credits.' Snorting slightly in her sleep, she rolled onto her side and placed a bare foot against one of the rear windows. Correction, he wouldn't have thrown her out, he would have killed her! As it was, both were still dead to the world, perfectly content to nap their lives away. Too bad Rover was wide awake.

Croaking worriedly, the alien toddled closer. Why wasn't Warm-Thing walking around like before? Rover snuffled slightly and fell back on his rump as he contemplated this dilemma. Somewhere back in his limited memories, he recalled that occasionally things stopped moving. Sometimes, they never got up again. Green frills all rose up at once like a ruffled skirt. 'Oh, no! Warm-Thing can't stop working,' was all the pudgy alien dog could think before racing to the edge of the bench seat. Rearing up on his hind paws, he eyed Swindle's highly sensitive seat cushion. If he dug in really hard with his climbing claws, he could reach the top and see if Warm-Thing was safe… but wait! The little alien cocked his head, feeling a migraine coming on with all this difficult thinking. Maybe he didn't have to climb up so high. His green hairless face turned and focused on something that was just within reach.

Cass was having a weird dream. At first it was about giant robots and a swimming-pool, but then it had changed. Now her jeans pocket had turned inside out, and it had a face on it? Then a whole bunch of housecats began walking all over her as if she was the feline equivalent of the freeway. All the while, an old children's song that she hadn't heard since pre-school was playing on repeat in the background: _Red Rover, Red Rover, O won't you roll over…_ It was enough to drive anyone insane! Finally, she stirred, removed the arm off of her face and blinked at the plain gray felt ceiling. 'Oh, yeah, Swindle,' the brunet remembered with a sigh. 'That explains the giant robots, but why would I dream about…' Looking down, she registered two things. One: there was a little green… thing on the floor right next to her, and two: her hand was down it's throat.

"YAAAH!"In a state of wide awake panic, she leaped to her feet, or she would have if the car roof hadn't gotten in the way. The resulting thud of skull meeting metal was loud enough to be heard on the other side of the parking lot. It was also, unfortunately, enough to set off every alarm Swindle owned. With a deafening cry of sirens, claxons, horns, and bursts of light, the Decepticon roared into action. This involved rapidly spinning in place with every available weapon online and ready to fire. Woods, sky, the dirt road, more woods, sky, clouds of dirt…. Her eyes crossed from the insanity of it all as centrifugal force pushed her into the passenger side door.

Swindle scanned wildly in all directions, categorizing every life form in close proximity. Instantly, every bug, plant, bird, and mammal was assessed as a possible threat and discarded by his panicked processor. _There's nothing out here? But I could swear that something hit me hard on the…_ Then he noticed Cassidy. As last, fully awake, and with no small amount of annoyance, he dumped the small fleshling onto the ground and transformed to glare down at her. The crick in his neck components didn't really help his mood, either. "What exactly were you attempting to do," he demanded of the now prone fleshy. "Were you trying to give me a spark attack?"

Lying there, the brunet squinted dizzily up at the cloudy blue sky. A blurry black and green object loomed into view, one with glowing purple lights. Whatever it was said something that she thought might be in English… or Chinese. "Ooog," she groaned. "I don't feel good…" The face, at least she thought it was a face, snorted derisively.

"Well, it serves you right, you little pest," the Decepticon answered pettily as he crossed his arms… his cannon-less arms. _Lousy Autobots._ "What I don't understand is why you decided to jumpstart my systems when I've only had six hours recharge."

Rover chose that moment to congratulate Cassidy on a full recovery, by running up and licking the prone girl's face. The brunet had no idea what was happening. All she knew was that just as the world was finally not spinning like a tilt-o-whirl, a slimy green tongue loomed into view. "Aaack!"

In stunned amazement, Swindle watched the organic do a fairly good impression of an overturned lobster as she scuttled and clawed her way to his side. Heart pounding, she peered around the dubious safety of his left leg at the weird creature in front of them. On one level, Swindle was surprised. _Cassidy actually came to ME for protection? Would wonders ever cease? And why does that little organic look so familiar? Oh, where have I seen it before?_ Together, they stared at the green dog-like alien sitting in the dirt.

Yipping in confusion, Rover considered the pair of beings in front of it. The big moving statue smelled like home, so therefore, it was okay. But why had Warm-Thing run away? Couldn't she tell that he had saved her? Maybe if he showed her how fierce he could be, she wouldn't hide anymore. Rearing up on his hind legs, he waved the air with pudgy fore-paws and croaked loudly. At last satisfied he had made his point, he dropped back to the ground and gave them a big toothless doggie grin. There, now they knew he was a good protector!

Currently, Cass was having a revelation. It was small, green, large eyed… Blinking from her concussion style wake up call, she mumbled, "Rover?" The animal yipped once in excitement and bounced toward her. She scootched back in mild alarm. Undeterred, the small alien began licking the first thing it came to in overwhelming happiness. Frowning in disgust, she did her best to convince it to stop. Her jeans were slimy enough already!

Meanwhile, Swindle was deep in thought. _I know I've seen those things before… Oh, what are they?_ At last the proverbial light bulb went off. "Ah, hah," he exclaimed out loud, snapping his metal fingers as he finally found the necessary file. Birds flew into the air in a great cloud at the rifle-like clang of metal on metal, and Cassidy rubbed one ear in lingering agony. "That's it! It's a Grrbreazzzzrg! Knew I'd seen these things before!" Ignoring the look that the human was giving him that clearly stated that he was nuts, he crouched down to get a better look at the small yipping, chirping, bouncing animal. In tones of fond reminiscence, he continued, "It was one of my first money making schemes involving organics, and I was going to make a fortune selling them… The most perfect little house-pets money could buy." He scowled. "But then Cybertron passed laws making it illegal to own anything organic in their colonies. Lousy politicians!"

Rolling her eyes, Cassidy groaned at his one track thinking. 'Well,' she reflected. 'At least the little… whatever he'd called it obeyed when I shooed it away. That just leaves one last problem.' She wriggled her bare toes. Brown eyes located one of her sneakers partially lodged in a nearby mulberry bush. Gingerly stepping across the pine-needle strewn surface, she retrieved it. 'Now where's the other one,' the brunet mused tiredly. Considering the spin cycle she had gone through, it could be anywhere! A croak rose up from the little beast they were discussing, making Cassidy involuntarily glance at it… and the sneaker it was currently sliming up. Looking for clarification, Cassidy asked, "So it's not poisonous?"

Frowning in contempt, Swindle looked down at the human currently attempting to retrieve her ridiculous foot coverings. "No."

"Good!" Her relief was obvious as she approached Rover and jerked the shiny green blob of sneaker away. Protest croaks rose up from the animal as it's toy was taken away. "Now all I have to do is wipe this stuff off," Cass answered as she turned toward the nearest section of woodland. She'd only taken five steps before a massive robotic foot suddenly slammed into the soil in front of her. Rover squeaked in alarm at the resulting earthquake and curled into a protective little green ball. To her credit, she barely flinched. Instead, she gave him a look of pure boredom and held up her slime drenched hand, with the equally soiled shoe held between thumb and forefinger. "It's the foliage or your upholstery, Pal. You pick."

It only took three milliseconds for Swindle to analyze the slime and register the word '_Yuck_' on his CPU. Grudgingly he stepped out of the way. _I'm still keeping an optic on her, though,_ he mused to himself as he warily followed with tremor inducing steps. _After all, she could pull any number of tricks out here… Still, it's nice that she's finally starting to trust me. I was beginning to think she was impossible to train! _His optics identified a tiny metal sign, causing him to momentarily pause. Warning: No fishing, polluting, or swimming! Keep our waterways pure! _Now that has possibilities… It just presents a question of how to keep the silly little femme from using it to escape…_

'Finally,' Cass mused to herself. 'He's beginning to let me make my own decisions instead of carting me around like some kind of figurehead royalty! I was beginning to think he was impossible to train!' That was when the sign came into view that Cassidy decided must have been heaven sent. She needed to bathe in the worst way. It took very little persuading to convince the Decepticon to go along with her idea, and quite happily the brunet marched through the wilderness toward her goal, a however many ton robot thumping in her wake, and the Grrbreazzzzrg yipping and tumbling along after them.

_Ten minutes later…_

"Absolutely ridiculous," Cassidy growled, wading into the chilly rushing water. As she had hoped, there was a river nearby. In fact, once she'd found the signs warning not to fish, bathe, or pollute, it had been really easy to locate. So now, here she was, armed with soap, her jeans cuffs rolled up to her knees, her nastiest shirt on, and her spare outfit prepped and ready to wash. Barefoot, she took a moment to savor the wetness coming up to her calves. It felt wonderful! What she didn't like was the 'slight' amendment to her plans. At first, anyone looking would have thought she was wearing a lifejacket. Then, upon a closer inspection, the conclusion would be drawn that it was some sort of weird vest, one with a high waist and lengths of rope attached to the back. Looking down at the nylon belts looped, crisscrossed and triple tied around her torso, Cassidy switched her glower to the giant robot behind her. "I haven't worn a harness since I was three," she declared self-righteously.

The Decepticon, sitting nice and pretty on the river bank behind her, blinked his overly large purple optics in amusement. Extended from his wrist was the source of those lengths of nylon. With his aft parked on the muddy bank, reams of data flowing past his optics, and a severely annoyed fleshy glaring daggers at him, his smile couldn't be more genuine. Tilting his helm back to gaze at the sky, he blandly inquired, "Don't you have some cleansing to do?"

Groaning at his mocking imitation of her bored teenager routine, she resumed her journey toward cleaning off most of the gunk. The first order of business was her slime coated hand and sneaker. Thankfully, the stuff came off… sort of. Instead of dissolving, it sort of sloughed off her skin and drifted away with the current. A grimace crossed her features. Maybe that counted for polluting the water? Sighing, she waded after it and tossed it out of harms way. "You know," she commented conversationally as she did the same for her sneaker before tossing it onto the riverbank as well. She gestured at the belts adorning her chest and ribcage. "I'm never going to live it down if someone sees me wearing this thing." Dunking a pair of purple work out pants into the current, she then began industriously scrubbing soap into it.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," the 'Con-mech answered, ever cheerful. "I'll make sure to kill all witnesses!" Since his search engine was taking extra long to come up with usable data, he decided to visually assess the damage caused by one incredibly destructive organic. The first object he pulled out was a phase-pistol… or what was left of one. It's nozzle was so hopelessly bent and twisted, he'd have an easier time passing it off as new-age art. Grimacing, he placed it on his left side. Next up was his Cyber-scrambler three-thousand, a one and a half million credit sales item that he had spent several hundred solar cycles perfecting, all blasted to slag. Sparing a moment to glare at Cassidy for the sacrilege she had performed against his best work, he also put that in the 'Scrapped Beyond Repair' pile.

For a long moment, she stared, getting the disturbing feeling that the giant robot was serious. Before she could comment, though, a small green blur raced across the clearing and launched itself into the water. Cybertronian and Human alike flinched at the resulting cannonball splash. When Cass looked up through sopping wet curls, it was to see Rover… floating belly down on the water like a saggy balloon. Big doggy eyes blinked innocently at her from a green froglike face. The brunet blinked. 'It has to have air-sacs, or a naturally buoyant physical makeup to be able to do that,' she mused, frowning. Of course Rover looked really weird and gross, just reptilian enough to send the entire high school cheerleading team squealing in the opposite direction… Grinning at the possibilities, she rubbed the floating frog/dog on top of his slimy head. 'Maybe if I ask nicely enough, Swindle will let me borrow him for a few days.'

Holding up his Selodian acidic net-launcher, the Decepticon felt like crying. _Does she have any idea how hard it is to acquire such a find? Selodi EAT raw metal as a daily part of their diet. Natives of that mineral deprived planetoid look on the average Cybertronian as a feast to be captured at all costs. I barely made it out alive. _Now the truly priceless object he'd risked his function to retrieve was horribly mangled beyond repair! Optics aglow with barely restrained violence, he sent a sharp tug over the seatbelts wrapped around the fleshling. "I may have consented to allowing you to go into that river," the Decepticon warned her, gesturing with the mangled device. "If only to wash away your stench, but I'm not planning on spending the entire solar cycle here."

"Alright, alright," Cassidy harped back as she tried for the thousandth time to readjust her 'Safety harness.' As if mocking her, the belts twisted under her palms and squeezed extra tight. Red faced, and muttering curses, she decided to just concentrate on finishing the task at hand. Anything to make the pervert stop! With a huff, she eyed the next task dripping in front of her. Her hair was a solid, wet, oily tangle of chlorine and dirt. Gripped in her hand was her only defense against such a formidable foe, one measly bar of soap. Making a mental vow to pack shampoo in the future, she set to work.

_Well, this one isn't too badly damaged_, the 'Con-mech mused, holding up a traditional Cybertronian katana. Slowly, he began extending it. At that point, the imperceptively bent tip caught slightly, causing a loud metallic shriek. Wincing, he made a mental note to repair it, before placing it in his 'Salvageable' pile to the right of his legs. So far, there were only two items on that side, but he was hopeful that he would find a lot more in the future. _I mean_, he let out a weak internal chuckle. _She's just a primitive little fleshy… It's not like they could destroy that much!_ The next item to be exposed to the light of day was his Mnosian time keeper, a rare archeological find. Most scientists would pay top credit to acquire it, simply because of the species fine technological workmanship. It was said that their inventions were so durable that they could never be broken. Now, here it was, busted beyond repair! He made a quick query through his internal monitoring systems. _But it was no where near the blast radius of my electro-nuclear magnet! How had she…?_ He blinked absently, at a loss for explanations. Noting that the femme was apparently done, he undid her safety restraint leash with a flick.

Cleaning off the soap from her stomach by way of a wash cloth, she studied her surroundings as she walked. At last, water sloshing in her ears and drenched from head to toe, she staggered out onto dry land. Forlorn and forgotten, one pink camouflage duffel bag sat by the riverbank. Grumbling to herself over the chilly water and even colder air, she put her washcloth wrapped bar of soap away and dug around until she found something to dry with. It was a towel… well, sort. Holding up the standard issue arm-length piece of terry cloth the gym insisted she have whenever she went to work, she sighed and began rubbing it through her hair. 'That's where I'm supposed to be right now,' the brunet mused, 'pulling shifts all weekend.' Since she had such a nasty Biology test coming up, she had traded around with her coworkers until she had the entire week to study. 'Wait, the bio test was yesterday,' she realized, sagging where she stood. More aggressively, she tackled the rest of her damp self. 'Terrific! Knowing my teachers, I'm going to have to endure summer school,' she groused. Tossing aside the towel, she applied her deodorant.

It was while the 'Con mech was idly scanning a dirigible device for possible damage that his Internet search engine found it. Sitting up, he quickly made several cross references and double checked his findings. Purple optics that until now had been a languid violet, lit up to an intense neon lavender and instantly zeroed in on one unsuspecting little organic. His smile, which until now had been his usual sales perfect grin, suddenly stretched wide enough to break world records. Studiously keeping her back to him, the femme was attempting to wring out her shirt without taking it off. Therefore, she was completely unaware of the giant metal happy face descending from on high. Leaning centimeters away, thoroughly giddy with the blackmail material he had discovered, he half shuttered his optics and purred innocently, "Oh, Cassidy?" Now his vocals took on a sinister air, "Why don't we get down to business?"

At the first glimpse of huge purple cat's eyes and a grin wider than she was tall, Cassidy did what any sane person would do. "Aack," she exclaimed, taking a hurried step away. Abruptly, her foot slipped on a loose rock and she toppled inelegantly back into the drink. Several moments of kicking and spluttering later, she finally broke the surface in an even more soggy state than before. With a heated glare that she felt was more than justified, she yelled up to the clueless robot on the ridge, "Would yah quit doing that? Yeesh! Learn some personal space!" 'Great, just great,' the brunet groused as she tread the ice cold river. She was now as wet as a drowned rat, thanks to that lousy alien, and the only towel to her name was too damp to be of any use. 'Stupid tin can,' she pouted to herself, beginning to swim for shore. 'There's no way this could get any worse!' Then she noticed the giant hand shaped shadow descending her way. Gulping in alarm, she frantically dove.

"Honestly, kid," Swindle chided as he fished her out of the river. "I try to start a polite conversation with you and you take off! Very unladylike if you ask me." Tipping his servo, he allowed half a dozen tiny gray fish to fall back into the water, while still keeping his human firmly in servo. All the while, he considered the dilemma of her current sopping wet state. _Ugh, that would play havoc on my seat cushions_, he reflected silently. Sighing at the tedium of it all, he opened up a vent in his arm, set the fan on high, and proceeded to blast her with hot air.

With the first touch of steamy exhaust, she cursed and scrambled to get away. A claw deftly caught her by the back of her jeans and resumed his drying techniques from behind with hurricane force winds. This meant her shirt rode up, her hair shot wildly in all directions, and the smell? It was nastier than rotten eggs, more nauseating than a sun-baked dumpster, far worse than Weasel's lucky plaid coat! Desperate to escape the onslaught of fiery air, she climbed and clawed over metal knuckles and wired joints. Not that she made much headway. The hand under her tossed her into the air, and she landed painfully in a solid metal palm. Black talons curled around her, making it nearly impossible to escape. Cursing creatively she curled, attempting to guard her poor ringing ears. Abruptly, all white noise and blazing heat vanished as if it never was. With ragged breathing, her brown hair a singed and frizzed out halo around her head, and her clothes plastered to the metal hand behind her, she could barely muster the strength to glare.

Oblivious to her discomfort, he sadly shook his helm, somehow managing to look disappointed while still keeping his smile firmly fixed in place. "You're as high strung as a grounded seeker," Swindle informed her. "And believe me, Kid, that's saying a lot!" At last, beaming, he switched gears. "So, now that you're picture perfect, we can get the next phase of our partnership underway. What do you say?"

A fish, long since cooked to death, flopped lifelessly out of the joints between two metal fingers to plop into the river down bellow. Still, Cassidy gasped for air through scorched lungs. Perhaps the hand gesture she raggedly presented to him was unwise, but it was oh so satisfying!

Rolling his optics by way of expression, the Con' was hardly put out. "Oh, please, that is the most childish response you've given me yet! Now, getting on to business, since you're working for me, I felt that I was well within my rights to do a background check. Standard procedure after all, and you wouldn't believe what I found!" Grinning, he added the zinger. "The name Nulte. Apparently someone decided to post your entire family tree online, or as much as could be researched anyway. All I had to do was claim to be a relative and voila! Names presented for anyone to view. Imagine my surprise when I found out that you have an uncle that lives fairly close to that street, and he runs a pawn shop! What are the chances that my pocket-watch might be in a display case right around there, hmmm?"

Cassidy stiffened at the mention of that particular web-page, and inwardly cursed her cousin Kailyn for making it. 'Her and her stupid fascination with genealogy.' She was on the edge of a fairly wide stream, with very little cover, and a robot that might kill her any minute. Mind racing, thick metal fingers for a backrest and five long talons for a sunshade, she did her best to act nonchalant, "That's wonderful, Hon. Too bad you'll never get it." The seventeen year old grimly locked eyes with a pair of gargantuan purple peepers. "I was being serious when I told yah the guy running it is a conspiracy nut that went off his gourd a while back. If he gets one glimpse of your charming face, he'll destroy his entire inventory. He's done it before. Don't believe me? Check the police records."

Meanwhile, the 'Con was doing just that. _Two counts of arson under questionable circumstances… vandalism? Frag-it she's right. _Speculative optics scanned the fleshy that was currently attempting to set to rights a clothing disaster of epic proportions. _Apparently, I still need her cooperation after all_, he mused. _Too bad. And I was so looking forward to punting her into the next county. _"Well, Kid," Swindle sighed out loud. "I hate to have to resort to this, but you leave me with no choice… and I thought I was above this sort of tactic."

What are yah jabbering about, yah crazy robot," Cassidy irritably wondered as she knotted her hopelessly stretched out t-shirt. Inwardly, she was tense, prepared to jump, dive, anything to try to get away from what she was certain was going to be a very painful death.

"I'm going to come clean," he confessed, his optics gazing at her with honest pity. "I'll tell them all about our partnership… How you turned you're back on your own species for a profit. Every last shred of evidence laid out nice and neat for anyone in authority that chooses to listen." He played a blurb of spliced conversation from yesterday while she listened on in growing annoyance. "Of course, if we can work out our differences, this little secret can remain between the two of us." Fully confident, the Decepticon set to work gathering the alien scrap metal from their little piles. Humming a cheerful tune, he waited for the fleshies answer.

Her mind ticking over the possible rebuttals and counter threats, she couldn't help the slow thread of admiration seeping into her heart. In retrospect, it was a pretty stupid idea to use a fake cooperation ruse on a walking, talking, super-computer. 'Unbelievable… He's managed to box me in with one simple little threat.' Minutes later, she, her duffle bag, and one alien pooch, were the unhappy occupants of a deviously unscrupulous Mitsubishi Gallant. Still, she continued to wrack her brains for something, anything to counteract the bastards blackmail ploy. It was humiliating to get manipulated that easily! All the while, a truly spectacular sunset lit up the heavens with a mixture of orange, pink, and gold.

They had barely gotten underway when Cassidy decided to take advantage of their new 'friendship' by opening a window. Fifteen miles passed by in peaceful silence before the next snag occurred. Being a night owl, sunset and onward was generally the time when she was most active. Swindle endured having organic fingers rifle through the contents of his glove compartment before she found the only reading material he had, a manual on how to own and operate the new hydraulic bench-press that her gym had installed. She bit her lip, feeling another vague twinge of guilt. Since she wasn't going to be there, it meant that her co-workers were going to have to pick up the slack… Korina was going to throw a fit. 'Oh well,' she mused, 'I'll just play up my desperate fight trying to stay alive around a killer car. Everyone will believe that.' Glancing down, the brunet frowned. Unfortunately, it was now too dark to read. Without even thinking about the consequences, she flicked on the dome light.

Swindle tolerated all of the squirming and pressing of buttons in longsuffering silence. At last, the fleshling quieted down and he vented a sigh of relief. _Hopefully, she'll fall into recharge_, he mused, not even noticing the small white object sailing past his sensors. Someone else did, though. The sudden organic screech of unmitigated terror that rose to audio shattering levels nearly caused him to drive into a ditch. Cursing long and creatively, the Decepticon pulled over and switched to an interior view, fully prepared to tell her off… _What the frag is she doing?_

Somehow, she had moved from his front passenger side to the back seat in under a second. She was also clinging to his seat cushions with every one of those sharp little organic claws of hers. Swindle winced as they sank just a little deeper. "Um, Sweetheart…," the huckster began in sugared tones. The organic's gold flecked eyes, already big with fright, widened impossibly larger. "Cassidy…," he crooned when that didn't seem to penetrate. Curling into a solid little ball of quivering flesh, she warily scanned the ceiling. Now he was getting annoyed. Before he could say anything further, she was a flurry of action. Screaming like a banshee, hands waving in the air, and sneakers scrambling for purchase, she raced from one side of his vehicle mode to the other. It was only after she had launched herself over his front seats to hide under his dashboard that he realized her screeching actually contained words.

Just a little adjustment to his audio filter, and he stared at the brunet in confusion. "Aaahyk," Cassidy yelped. "A MOTH, A MOTH! Oh, My God! It's a MOTH! Help! Why did yah have to let a freakin' moth in the car? Oh, my God! It's a GIANT! Save me!" She ducked down again and screamed like a horror movie murder victim. Swindle winced through the high frequency assault, reflecting that it was quite honestly one of the best defensive abilities he'd ever encountered in an organic species. Quickly accessing the internet, he looked up the word 'moth' and read up on everything concerning the subject in less than ten seconds. Dashboard lights flickered in disbelief.

A quick search around located the source of all this insanity. There it was, the 'Giant Moth,' a creature that was roughly the size of his radio dial. Fluttering around his ceiling, it was obviously attracted to his activated dome light. "Huh," Swindle commented absently during a rare moment of silence. "It must have blown in through my window."

"What?" Feverish terror filled human eyes abruptly focused unerringly on his radio console. She pointed an accusing finger his way even as she dodged the fuzzy wings of a creature that had featured in every nightmare she'd had since kindergarten.

"You mean YOU let that thing in here?"

His sigh was explosive. "I didn't let it in here. If anything, you attracted it with my slagging dome light! Why don't you just sit…" His belt snagged the girls waist and jerked her back into his driver's seat. "And stay! It's not like they can hurt you." Exasperated, he flicked the light in question off. Now it was pitch black with the only sound present being the ragged panicked breathing of an overwrought fleshy. Noticing how she was now cringing and sightlessly peering around his ceiling as if she was anticipating an aerial bombing any minute, he added, "Just relax. I'll keep you safe from the pathetically harmless bug." Swindle's processor almost stalled and he had to contain his laughter when she turned shining hopeful golden eyes his way.

Quavering with anxiety, she hesitantly asked him, "Yah will?" Cass couldn't help it. It was just, she hated moths! They were fuzzy and chaotic, and they always tangled in her hair. Snakes? No problem. Beatles? Never bothered her! Fear of heights was non-existent, and mice were fun to have as pets, but if you presented a moth to her, she abandoned any and all common sense to get away post haste. Later, she would be horribly embarrassed that she freaked out so badly in front of an alien. Right now, she was too terrified to think.

"Cross my spark and hope to fry," he told her in his sincerest tone of voice. Amazingly enough, the fleshling seemed to have bought his lie! She nodded, at last beginning to relax into his seat cushions, and satisfied, Swindle turned over his engine. In retrospect, this was the worst move he could have made. He had forgotten all about his headlights. They came to life, and so unfortunately, did the moth. Cassidy took one look and leaped out of her seat. It didn't matter if he had strapped her down with his seatbelts. Sliding out of them like an eel, she went the one place he never expected her to go: straight out of his open window.

Cursing heavily in twenty-six different alien languages, he swerved. Dreading his next predicted activity, namely chasing her through woodlands and farm field, he skidded to a halt and hurriedly scanned his surroundings. _No, she's not a smear on the roadway nearby, and no, she isn't racing across the wilderness in either direction… So where would she…_ He froze. Slowly, he aimed his sensors toward the stars. There she was, clinging to his roof rack for dear life, her sneakers scuffing up his paint job, and her hair flying wildly in the breeze. Yet again, she was screeching about the slagging moth.

Having enough, Swindle transformed. He didn't care really if she toppled off, maybe the fall would knock some sense into her. As it was, panic lent itself well toward her regaining her feet in record time, if only to outrun the moth. It bobbed and wove, it fluttered and loop-t-looped, following Cassidy's every step. Swindle kept his spotlight on the femme as she fled, screaming, first one way then another with the moth tumbling after her like an over-energized Seeker. Rover yipped in excitement, watching the action. Running like the very spawn of Unicron was chasing her, she dove for cover behind his legs. The moth arrived, so shrieking some more nonsense, she ran again. This time, the brunet ducked around to his other side. Watching this display, the 'Con came to a new realization. _I could easily crush this human like a bug… she could just as easily crush this bug like a bug, yet she's more terrified of it than she is of me. Are all humans this glitched?_

After about the twentieth lap of 'Ring Around the Robot,' Swindle had had enough. Snatching her up in one taloned servo, he raised Cassidy to his narrowed optics. "Listen up you crazed organic," he began, struggling to maintain his temper. "I didn't come all this way just to have you draw a lot of unnecessary attention because of a stupid flying bug! You have a task to fulfill, remember?" The moth, having finally caught a clue as to the location of those lovely headlights, fluttered up close to Swindles chest. Both huckster and human noticed it simultaneously. Despite the solid metal fist immobilizing her, Cass cringed back. His servo tightened and he growled, "Slagging femme, it can't hurt you!" To prove it, he drew her even closer to the dreaded eater of cloth. Organic eyes white rimmed with terror, mouth open in a silent scream, she scrambled, and amazingly enough came free.

Skittering across his armor like a mad squirrel, she climbed down his form and dropped out of sight behind some bushes. Heart hammering, Cassidy peered up at the 'Con, or more specifically the moth fluttering around in front of him. Swindle was too busy examining his servo to bother to yell at her. He knew where she was, after all. That was what scanning equipment was for. _My servo seems alright_, he reflected as he flexed each digit. A slight binding on the thumb joint followed by a few painful sparks finally located the problem. Gripping his wrist joint and biting his glossa, he waited for the repair process to finish. Once it was done, he eyed the fleshling and cycled air a few times to try to regain his temper.

Deciding to just drop the matter, he transformed back into root mode and swung his passenger side door open invitingly. Cassidy stared warily back. Nothing was around them except empty farm fields and the equally abandoned nighttime highway. Still, the brunet hesitated, warily glancing around. Off in the distance, a lonely dog barked. An impatient engine rumble called her attention back to the matter at hand. "Well," he prompted. "I'm willing to overlook this incident if you'll climb back in right now." Headlights violently pierced the night, making her squint. "Come on… the alternative won't be to your liking, I guarantee." He flexed his belts in warning.

Warily glancing around, Cass swallowed. "Where's the moth?"

"How should I know?" Swindle snorted through his vents, thoroughly sick of the subject. "Off fluttering around with the rest of his little moth buddies, for all I care!" Watching her continue to scan her surroundings like a rookie soldier on the battlefield, he felt the first stirrings of sympathy. "Come on, Kid. I don't have any clue where it went."

Still, she remained suspicious. Eying him the same way he'd appraise an energon crystal for flaws, she asked, "Yah, don't have the moth inside yah again?"

"I promise I don't have any of those vicious, meat eating, nocturnal insects flying anywhere near my alt-mode," he soothed, sarcasm dripping with saccharine sweetness off of every manufactured word.

The brunet scowled, marching back to his form. "Stop making fun of me! Those things are freaky enough without adding design features." Plopping down in the offered seat, she pouted at his console, a slight blush of embarrassment seeping into her expression.

"Um, hmm," the Mitsubishi mumbled even as he belted her in extra securely and removed all control from his manual switches. No need to have a repeat performance like last time. Shutting his door with a definitive snap, he waited until his scanners informed him that his victim was finally starting to relax. With all the finesse of a film director, he waited until the moment was just right, and struck. She was glancing down right when he turned on his interior lights. Plastered to the seatbelt right over her cleavage was one extra flat, extra dead moth. The scream she uttered this time satisfied his sense of revenge ten-fold. Of course, she wasted no time in removing the belt and relocating herself to the chair that was the furthest away. He didn't mind, in fact he welcomed it! Sulking was a much quieter activity, after all.

Farmer's fields gave way to suburbs, which in turn translated into city streets. At last, they pulled up to a corner with dirty amber streetlights and filth decorated sidewalks. A small brick storefront boasted a single neon sign behind barred windows: Townsend Hock Shop. "Well, here we are," the radio joyfully blared, the Decepticon having finally regained his good mood. Cassidy grimaced, making no effort to hide the expression, not that he cared. "I'll just jam all communication lines… there! Alright, you know what to do," he prompted, undoing her belt for her and opening a nearby car door.

Scowling, the brunet slowly climbed from her seat. 'Unbelievable! I'm going to get blamed no matter what I do,' she groused to herself. Regardless of how many different ways she looked at it, Cassidy couldn't find an out or a counter-offer. It was only after she had both sneakers planted on the pavement and had begun to walk away that she heard a too smooth electronic voice, "ahem" nearby. Sighing loudly, she marched back over to the Mitsubishi's side. Part of her job, unfortunately, was to maintain the farce of being an ordinary driver with an ordinary car. Gripping the open door, she started to swing it closed, only to suddenly meet resistance. "By the way," Swindle purred softly, so as to avoid detection. "I've got a deadline I have to pay attention to, so I'm going to have to ask you to make this quick. Unless you make it back outside within fifteen minutes, you can look forward to being a traitor to the planet."

Violently slamming his door shut, she spun and marched away. 'I hope he pinched a belt, the money grubbing, backstabbing, manipulative…' Still concocting mental insults against Swindle, his ancestors, and his future progeny, she marched across the street, up the sidewalk and straight into her Great Uncle Townsend's pawn shop. Once inside, her demeanor did an about-face. She had to get in, find the watch and leave. Thanks to a certain giant robot, she couldn't phone the cops, delay coming out, and cheekily wave as his sorry aft got hauled to the nearest scrap yard, either. Thankfully, the floor was completely deserted… or maybe not. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted her older cousin Avery dusting the antiques section. Before the sly redhead could say a word, she put a finger in front of her lips. Slowly, the auburn haired twenty year old nodded in agreement.

Avery, like most of this branch of the family, was a redhead, and like most of the Townsend line, he was a little paranoid. He was small, quick, and understood when to keep his mouth shut. One glance out the filthy storefront window identified four cars, any one of which could be a potential Transformer. His teal blue eyes wide with alarm, he slowly looked around the store at all the electronic devices, cameras, and stuff that could maybe, just possibly be an alien in disguise. Noticing how he was beginning to spaz out, she sighed and shook her head. Had she mentioned the paranoia yet? Slowly, she edged closer to the section for watches, and… Where was it? Another careful study of the contents of the glass case yielded the same results.

Switching her attention back to the twenty year old who was slowly going out of his mind, she waved at him to catch his attention. That technique wasn't working. 'Look,' she signaled next. When that didn't garner enough attention, she snapped her fingers. 'Focus,' was the signal that finally did the trick. A little more work and she managed to convince him to let her see the ledger. It took careful reading over her Uncle Townsend's scratchy script, all her various cousins chicken scratch handwriting, and her Aunt Manya's precise cursive before she found it. The brunet slumped unhappily at her discovery. As the minutes ticked by, faster and faster, she considered her dilemma. Run for it, and get smeared as a traitor, or obediently march out to the blackmailing bastard and give him the (shudder) bad news.

'Hey, who says I have to come out to meet him,' Cassidy suddenly realized, brightening. 'I have a healthy set of lungs, and I'm sure that lousy alien has good hearing. All I have to do is give a shout-out and run for it!' Now somewhat more confident, she wrote a brief note and passed it to the red-head currently hiding behind the front counter wrestling with the phone. Avery didn't notice… but 'eh, she'd always known him to be mildly self absorbed. He didn't notice she was leaving until the front door jangled. She couldn't help her strangled yelp, though, as nylon wrapped around her waist from across the road!

"So, where is it," Swindle inquired eagerly as he gently ushered her inside his open driver's side door with gracious seatbelts. Nylon looped around her thighs and gently twisted her body around until she was facing forward before gently strapping her in place. He was more than capable of being a gentle-mech when the dollar signs suited him! Aside from a brief squeak of alarm when he'd initially helped her into his interior, she remained shivering and silent. "Oh, please! Don't be that way," he warmly admonished as he quietly shut his door. "You played a good game, but I'm far more experienced than you at this, so come on, give me the time-piece."

"Sorry, but I don't have it," Cass mumbled. Longingly, she considered the storefront window. Sure Uncle Townsend would blame her for everything if his business was trashed, and he would make her pay with interest for every penny lost, but was that so bad in the grand scheme of things? The belts roping her in twitched imperceptivity. Gulping at the prompt she continued on. "Townsend's doesn't have it either." Nylon cinching, became slightly tighter. "It was sold two days ago…" Now the nice friendly seatbelts were looking decidedly unfriendly, rearing up, their buckles glinting in the feeble light. Nervousness spurred her words faster. "And my uncle must have been having one of his less lucid moments, because he put down that the buyer was somebody named…" Due to tightening safety restraints her last two words were a strangled squeak. "Angry Archer." She squeezed her eyes closed, expecting the worst, but the bludgeoning never came. Instead, the engine purred to life. Any and all tension eased out of her safety harness. To her disbelief, they began coasting forward along the street at a sedate pace. Still fearful for her life, she inquired, "Where are we headed?"

"Why… out to meet a former associate of mine, of course," the Decepticon enigmatically answered. Darkening his windows, he signaled left and drove off.


	19. Chapter 19

Confidence Game

Chapter 19: Sherwood Follies

By: Mooncrossed

_Hi, guys! Hope you had a wonderful Memorial Day weekend! This chapter was difficult to type up, but praying really helped. I'd like to thank Cybernetic Orange for her lovely reviews. (Are you sure you'd want to be employed by Swindle? He's really stingy on payday.) I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, Medieval Times, or Levi Strauss jeans. _

_On an out of the way street corner in downtown Detroit…_

Cool glass pressed against Cassidy's face as she gazed longingly outside. Thunderheads that had been threatening a downpour all day yesterday were now dumping sheets of water all over downtown Detroit. As far as the captive seventeen year old was concerned, the gloomy weather reflected her mood perfectly. It had been two hours since the Townsend Pawn Shop, two hours since she'd had the chance to walk, two hours since she'd done anything. That's how long it was taking for Swindle to find whoever this Archer guy was. Maybe it was an alien? Briefly, the outside view of wet pavement and gray skies was obscured when she let out another warm breath of air. The nearest seatbelt shivered in disgust, making her smirk. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Deciding enough time had passed, she repeated her current favorite question: "Can I go outside yet?"

All she got was an engine growl in response. It was also the answer she'd received the last time she'd asked, and the time before that, and the time before that, and so on. Another puff of moist air wafted against the window, followed immediately by a seatbelt twitch. 'Hey,' she mused to herself. 'If I have to be miserable, then I'm dragging the robot right along with me.' Just two more breaths of air and the 'Con couldn't take it anymore. "Ow," she yelped at a particularly hard seatbelt buckle swat across the shoulder blades.

"And there's more coming right after it if you don't stop that annoying activity," Swindle declared in ringing vexation. Windshield wipers flicked testily, briefly providing a view of the city street they were parked on before washing away with the perpetual rainfall. "Ungrateful brat!"

"Yeesh," she groused back. Hauling her duffle bag up next to her, Cassidy dug her pocket-knife out. Thanks to Swindle's blow-drying techniques, her jeans were now too tight to be comfortable in. 'Thankfully, I have an easy solution,' she mused as she set to work ripping the cloth around her knees. 'I might even have to slash along the back of the legs,' she mused feeling the restrictive pinch of shrunken denim. 'This bastard owes me a decent pair of Levi's.' Pausing a moment, she experimentally flexed her leg, deemed her work good enough, and set to work on the other knee. Out loud, she continued to complain, "What is your big problem? Is letting me outside against the kidnapper's rulebook?"

"Nooo," he replied in barely masked annoyance. His voice adopted the caring concern of a worry-wart mother. "I just don't want you to get sick! Why just look at that nasty weather!"

Gazing outside, her eyes as large and wondering as a five year old, the brunet questioned, "It's raining? Yah know, I'm not sure if I could believe yah on that assessment. After all, yah are prone toward lying every once and a while. So let me just…" The back door, which she had been in the process of opening, snapped shut nearly removed some fingers.

"That attempt was pitiful, even for you," Swindle smugly informed her. While he spoke, Rover, who had been ignored so far, ambled up to the other passenger door. Pausing in front of the tan cloth paneling, he raised one clawed pudgy paw, and scratched. A soft whine rose up and large puppy like eyes lifted pleadingly toward the ceiling. Not even hesitating, the door in question swung wide. Letting out a happy yip, the alien romped out into the wet. "And I keep telling you, Kid," he continued, as he shut his door. "You're an employee! Alright, so there's a little blackmail involved, but seriously, it's not that bad! Now just relax." Feeling like he had done a decent job placating his captive, he turned back to hunting for one very elusive organic. Under normal circumstances, it would be easy to retrieve the all-spark infused pocket-watch from one of the primitive life-forms of this planet. Then again, his tractor beam was still offline, and Angry Archer was hardly ordinary. So, just in case the fleshy was in a harder to reach location, he was keeping Cassidy around a little longer.

Croaking and scratching abruptly sounded outside, heralding the return of one alien named Rover, to which Swindle obligingly opened a door. Cassidy dove, but one belt snagging her waist and the other one encompassed her arm prevented her from the open air of a Detroit downpour. "Ah, ah, Sweetheart," Swindle tisked as his door snapped shut, before going back to his search grid. Finally getting the results on his latest scan, and falling short of the fleshling he sought, he turned his engine over and drove to the next area on the map.

'It's insulting,' the brunet fumed, once she'd wrestled away from the belts holding her prisoner. 'Seriously, all Rover has to do to get what he wants is scratch at the door, whimper, and…' Her eyes widened at the idea that suddenly came to her. Yeah it was ludicrous, and ok, so it was a little demeaning, but if it got her out of the Torture Car for even a few minutes, she'd take it! Screeching into place into a rare free parking spot, Swindle immediately set up another search grid. Cautiously, she eyed the twinkling lights of Swindle's front console. Just how closely was he paying attention? Slowly, she slipped off the bench seat and crouched in front of the door that the alien had used. 'He couldn't be that dumb… could he?'

Lifting up one hand, she lightly scratched the door, exactly as Rover had, trying to ignore the warm pulse of life threading just beneath the cloth paneling. A whining whimper, scarily accurate to the amphibian alien's tones, scratched from Cassidy's vocal chords. Copying the other's movements perfectly, she cast a soulful look of hope at the featureless gray ceiling.

At first, Swindle had ignored the brunet's actions. So what if she was on his alt-mode's flooring? That changed to testy annoyance when he felt the itchy clawing sensation of flimsy keratin fingernails across his door, to say nothing of the organic debris she was shedding as she went. About to swing a belt on general principle, he froze when he got a good look at her. Now just bursting with hilarity, the huckster was on a new mission, a fun activity to while away the time. It took effort to contain his amusement, but he managed, until… A sound recording, one he'd been searching relentlessly to obtain, now echoed mockingly off his speakers.

As the first cheesy canned applause mockingly echoed off of the loudspeakers, one most likely taken from a grade F game-show, Cassidy's eyes widened. It was immediately followed by more clapping and a few cheering whistles. Cybertronian chuckles filled the vehicle soon after. She knew she'd been found out, and the painful pop of her eardrums as Swindle's interior depressurized from his alien laughter merely added insult to injury. "Oh, shut up," she mumbled, sulking. Rover didn't help matters by yipping once in excitement, before proceeding to bathe her left arm in thick green drool.

"Amazing," he enthused, offering her a conciliatory pat on the back with the nearest nylon strap, which she shrugged off. Swindle was not put out. "The best performance I've seen all deca-cycle! I mean you told me you were an actress (wheeze), but the talent I've seen here today!" (Whoosh, snicker, snicker) Giving his radio a glinting death glare, the seventeen year old squirmed away from the open air vents. Mockingly, he continued, "I believe you now when you say that you're a trained professional! Truly, it's brought (guffaw), wiper fluid to my optics!" Still chuckling over the organic's stunt, he resumed his search.

Sulking, Cassidy wholeheartedly focused on plotting. Since she hadn't had an epiphany yet on how to counteract the bastards blackmail tactics, she focused on other matters, like escape plans, the best possible methods of manipulating her captor into letting her do what she wanted… and all the fun filled revenge she'd love to inflict on him. She was just devising the finer details of what she was going to do to his hubcaps, and how best to inflict damage while they were still attached to him, when he found his target. A squeal of loud feedback accompanied by electric guitars being played too painfully to be accidental making her clutch her ears in agony. "What the…?"

Switching to primitive organic speech, Swindle crowed his triumph. "Yes! I knew he had to be around here somewhere!" Revving his engine, he shot out of the red-zone he was parking on and zoomed into traffic with a spray of water. He was so focused in fact, that he forgot all about securing the fleshy in his interior. Cursing creatively, Cassidy involuntarily body slammed the door next to her, before she could wrestle a seatbelt on. _According to my sensors, Angry Archer is right… there!_ With unerring accuracy, he focused on the organic in question, the man standing on the roof of a six story brick apartment building. "Frag, I was afraid of this," he exclaimed, screeching to a halt and pulling into the driveway of a locked up parking garage. "But that's why you're here! Now all you have to do is…"

"What? Afraid of what?" She squinted at the radio in front of her, her ears still ringing from the deafening dial-tone like sounds of an excited Decepticon. Rubbing her bruised shoulder petulantly, she wondered if the Mitsubishi had finally lost it. 'It would definitely be a short trip,' she mused tiredly. Cass hadn't had a drop of coffee to counteract the weird hours she was keeping. Thus, she was having a hard time paying attention and was overly cranky as a result. The icy river bath had helped some, but in the brunet's opinion, nothing beat a good cup of Joe. Blinking in disbelief, she wordlessly observed the television screen that slowly rose out of the dashboard in front of her. A moment of static, and an image appeared that was shadowy and menacing.

Cassidy stared apprehensively, until the person on the screen stepped into the light of a nearby stairway access door. She blinked, yet the image didn't change. Green tights, an olive green jerkin, and a matching little green hat with a red feather. Again, the brunet blinked. No man over twenty-five would wear a getup like that outside of a stage production. Swindle's target was pushing forty. Lifting her eyes from the futuristic alien monitor, she squinted at a barely seen dot way off on top of a distant rooftop, before going back to the image presented before her. Well, those giant purple peepers of his had to be good for something. The image fizzled momentarily before focusing up close on the (snicker) crook. Specifically, the wannabe's overly large gut. That was the moment she couldn't take it anymore.

Swindle paused in fine tuning his optical scanners to focus inwardly on the fleshy currently laughing her head off in his front seat. "What?" For some reason, his question only made her laugh harder. Rapidly, he reviewed the previous fifteen minutes of stored memory files before focusing on her again. She was still weakly giggling away. Finally chalking it up to general organic weirdness, he went back to work. He refocused his visual sensors upon Angry Archer's face, unfortunately getting an up close image of the man's rather prominent nose. _Ugh! I didn't know they could grow keratin follicles within their nasal receptors!_ A choking noise, followed by outright guffaws, arose from Cassidy. At last, after a little more fine tuning, he did it! No matter where the organic moved, he was watching. Now he could focus on the fleshy currently collapsed weakly over his center console. "Alright, this is the organic who has my time-piece. He's a thief that I have had some previous dealings with before… Are you even listening to me?"

"Hah, hah," she laughed loudly. "Oh, this guy's a thief? I'm embarrassed on behalf of my entire family!" Weakly clutching her ribs, she snickered some more.

Refocusing back on the man standing on the six story tenement rooftop in European fifteenth century garb, he remained silently puzzled. There didn't appear to be anything overly different about this male as opposed to the rest of the human population. Fleshy was fleshy with very little to physically distinguish them from one another. "So," he hazarded a guess, "He's odd looking?"

"Oh, oh, brother," Cass wheezed out, slowly sitting up. "Unless he's at a Medieval Times Fair or in an acting gig (snicker!), no man in his right mind would be caught dead looking like that!"

An audible buzz of confusion ran through his system. He focused first on Cassidy in ripped jeans, cinched up t-shirt, and sneakers, then back on the Angry Archer: standing in the rain in all his tights wearing glory. Finally deciding to shelve the matter, he focused back on his target. _If I tweak this nearby electronics system, and re-aim my audio receptors just right… Got it!_ Another snort of laughter interrupted him, and he switched his glare back to the brunet just as she slowly collapsed again.

Echoing off of the Decepticon's radio, perfectly audible for anyone within range, were his target's words. "Forsooth! Oft ahead I have espied yon target! Thy crimes against thine fair kingdom's poor shall not go unpunished!"

Keeled over sideways and clutching her ribs for dear life, the only thought that could make it past her paralysis was the realization that Swindle lived up to his 'Torture Car' nickname in the weirdest ways. Pained tears now streamed down Cassidy's face, a true testament to how hard she was laughing right now. "Swindle," she rasped weakly. "This is, 'snicker,' cruel and unusual punishment!"

Ignoring her, Swindle began. "Alright, this is the organic that has my time-piece." Another loud organic giggle interrupted him, and he barely resisted the urge to swat her. Gritting his dentas, he continued on, "Get it back for me, and I'll let you go free. I won't even blackmail you. He may be armed with rather primitive looking weapons, but don't underestimate him!"

"Yah want me to ROLL HIM? Hah! Hah! What if I get infected?" Holding her aching ribs, she continued to snicker wildly at her first 'job assignment.' Swindle didn't realize it, but if he had let her know that working for him would be this amusing, she wouldn't have protested quite as much. Leaning weakly against the middle console, she propped her chin on her hand, and studied the arrow toting madman with twinkling brown eyes. "Why have I never heard about this guy?"

It took closing off the video monitor and issuing a few death threats to restore order. That was how Cassidy found herself casually strolling down the sidewalk, her hands stuffed in her too tight jeans, and a smirk fighting for dominance. Truthfully, she would have been happy to target the costumed wonder simply for the bragging rights afterwards, not that Swindle would ever know. Testing the second door she found on the ground floor, the sopping wet teenager frowned. 'Oh, great! It's locked,' she silently moaned. Lock-smithing was not her forte, so glumly, she resumed her exploration. All the while, a plan was taking shape. 'Swindle is making no secret of the fact that he's planning all sorts of unpleasant consequences for me if I don't find that pocket-watch,' she reflected. 'And I'm also well aware that that sneaky robot is probably going to kill me if I find it. He's blackmailing me with a smear job if I run off, so where does that leave me? With the worst odds on the planet, that's what!' The brunet grimaced when the third ground level entrance she came to wouldn't open, and thumped her fist against it in frustration before she trudged on.

Feeling her skin beginning to crawl, the seventeen year old grimaced, well aware of the nosy robot watching her every move. Telling herself to ignore it, she eyed the second obstacle, the rusted remains where the building's fire-escape used to be. 'Terrific,' she silently groused. 'Not only is the guy I have to steal from convinced he's six centuries in the past, he has to be on top of a six story high-rise!' Sighing, she set about tying up her mane into a ponytail with a hair tie to keep it out of the way. As far as she could see, there was only one possible solution: Hole up in the building at a location that was too high up for him reach, and hopefully deep enough inside to protect her from any weapons he might try to use. Then try to gain the trust and cooperation of the local tenants until the cops could arrive to rescue her. Cassidy stretched slightly in an effort to limber up. 'If Swindle makes good on his threat to paint me as the worst kind of traitor,' she mused, eying the brick wall ahead of her. 'Well, it's my word versus an alien's; at least it's better odds than certain death!' The hard sheets of rain were tapering off to big wet drops of chill water. 'Good,' she silently decided as she shook out her sopping wet tee-shirt and re-tied it beneath the safety of a building overhang. 'Maybe it'll quit soon, and hopefully the rooftop access will be open!'

Already wincing from the anticipated scrapes, the brunet silently began scaling the wall. She'd hated this training exercise with Uncle Weisel! Bricks were a lot less forgiving than tree branches. At least with them, all you'd get was the occasional splinter. Each wide place in the bricks was carefully scrutinized before calloused fingers gripped the cold, damp surface and pulled. Filth rubbed off on her hands and smeared her clothes, the results of several decades of acid rain on hardened clay. Trying to find the one area of the structure with the least light or windows, she paused to think about the reason behind that. 'Heh, cops are the last thing I need,' she reflected as she carefully balanced on the very edge of the forth floor sill. If the gap between windows had been any wider, she would have been doing the splits. It was necessary, though. She needed a rest. Besides, if anybody looked out the window on either side, they wouldn't see anything suspicious. Picturing the look on Captain Fanzone's face if she attempted to be truthful, she stifled a laugh. 'Why, yes officer,' she pictured herself saying. 'One of those giant freakish aliens did make me scale a building at eleven o'clock at night, honest!' The poor guy would probably have a coronary before tossing her in the nearest cell.

Casting her eyes upwards, Cass attempted a personal pep-talk. 'Come on girl, only two more stories to go! And I'm doing much better than normal. I might even be improving at free climbing! Look at this, only two nails have been shredded…' She winced at a particularly painful scrape and studied her right thumb contemplatively. 'Ok, so this is relatively normal for me… but I'm almost done!' Barely discernable muttering reached her ears in a familiar British accent, and she held still. It was relatively distant… but maybe she was misinterpreting the sound? Finally, she reached the last row of bricks and heart hammering, she cautiously peered just over the top. The good news was, he was facing away from her, and the bad news? A green tights clad butt loomed into view, bestowing nightmares for any that made the mistake of looking. Lowering herself back out of sight, the brunet silently gagged. There was an image she'd pay hard cash to divorce from her brain! Doing her best not to look, she crept up and over the roof ledge.

Once she was at a less frightening angle, her brown eyes zeroed in on the Robin-Hood wannabe again. He was half leaning on the ledge, looking down at the sidewalk with a distracted air. Slowly, Cass crept closer. Mainly, with a proper snatch job you needed to stay relaxed. You walk like you aren't doing anything. Never look directly at the target, because something like a heavy stare can be felt. Now, she had a choice, shove herself against him and 'accidentally' walk away with his wallet, or carefully remove it from his person by cutting the pocket. Considering the man's dress sense and his more than unattractive qualities, Cass opted for the switchblade approach. The less physical contact with this guy, the better. Staying just within old Robbie's blind-spot, she silently reached up, before a laugh threatened to dissolve her professional air. Angry Archer had one of those dinky Medieval style drawstring bags! 'There's no way even a moron would put something as important as a wallet in there…' As gently as a whisper, her blade slid through the drawstring ties and she deftly caught it. What felt distinctly like a billfold, a driver's license, some keys, and a pocket-watch could clearly be felt through the cloth. Her eyebrows rose even as she crept away. 'Apparently, this guy would.'

"Forsooth," the loony exclaimed dramatically. "I couldst swear I saw a peculiar youth pass this way upon yon pathway! A damsel of some such with wild curling hair and a man's attire… Passing strange for such an area of the village of Detroit… NAY!"

Cassidy's ears perked up at the crazy man's sudden shout. Now, in the purse snatcher's handbook she had a choice. That was, pretend that she was just an average Jane out on a walk, or else just run for it! Too bad he wasn't letting her choose. With an amazing show of agility for a man with a potbelly, he leaped in front of her by somersaulting over her head.

Frozen in the weight of his glare, she swiftly adopted a flawless movie-star smile. "Hi there," she chirped. As she stood there, with her empty hands flexing for something to do (she thanked her lucky stars she'd had the foresight to shove the cute little man-purse into her jeans pocket), the brunet wracked her brains for a good way to handle the prancing phony standing in front of her. "Um…," brown eyes flickered over his form from green leather booties to feathered hat. Cassidy decided to go for ignorantly clueless. "Is there any particular reason yah decided to pull a football move in front of me?" Angry Archer crossed his arms and raised one skeptical eyebrow at her, so she smiled wider. One slight step backwards away from the crazy man, and she continued. "Or…, did yah just pull that stunt to get my attention?" Spreading her arms out even as she backed up a little more, she gestured as if to say: 'Well? I've noticed you now!'

"Of what purpose would a maiden of such singular quality be doing upon a rooftop at night? Hmmm?" One pencil thin eyebrow rose snootily above his custom made Halloween mask as he took in the deep red stains on her clothing. Considering the nature of his vantage point, namely a crumbling red brick building, it didn't take a genius to discern where she had acquired it. He raised his chin imperiously.

"Hey," she barked in manufactured insult as she propped her hands on her hips. "I've got as much right to take a stroll on top of Detroit's finest buildings as anybody else! It's a free country!" She estimated how much time it would take to reach the ledge if she sprinted… 'Ugh, thirty seconds? Not good.' Nonetheless, another barely noticeable shuffle was committed before she was yet again pinning by a pair of not quite sane blue eyes.

"FREE !" Angry Archer spent a few apoplectic minutes trying to twist into fractured Elizabethan what would have taken the average Detroit native thirty seconds to express in cuss words. "There is no such thing in all the world," he declared in ringing indignation. "Oppression stinketh the air and obscures thy senses! Poor clog the city streets and wail their distress to mine ears… That is why I have taken it upon myself to free them from their suffering!" Striking a dramatic pose that pushed out his bulging middle, it took him a moment to realize that his audience had covered a fair amount of territory off of the roof. An ominous note of suspicion took hold on his aristocratic features.

Yelping, Cassidy suddenly found an arrow swinging around her arms and chest, tightly wrapping her with the rope attached to it. In seconds, she was quadruple wrapped in hemp and effectively hamstrung. She trotted to stay upright even as she was tugged extra close to the wannabe villain. "And yet the question remains," he murmured, gazing down his nose at the captive brunet. "Of what purpose wouldst a lady have atop a tower of such magnitude?"

Trying not to grimace as she looked up that same nose, she offered an innocent grin. "Sightseeing?" Cassidy squirmed slightly despite the sandpaper feel of multiple layers of rope over her bare arms and midriff. The Angry Archer was too lost in lala land to notice much right now, anyway, judging from his spaced out expression. 'Thank God, I had the brains to pack a switchblade!' She flicked another glance up at the lunatic, noting she was still being ignored. 'And what is it with people wanting to tie me up all the time? First Swindle, now this guy,' she groused. 'What, is it the latest cool trend for super villains these days?' Snapping out of a horrified moment of realization that he had flower embroidered gloves, she squirmed harder. 'Ugh! It's too tight! Time to go with a different approach…' A subtle glance confirmed that she was still relatively alone, judging by the Robin Hood television theme song he was humming under his breath. "Um," she began. "Not that I don't appreciate the attention, but aren't yah a little old for me?"

"What?" The wannabe dropped the rope in his gloved hands like it had scalded him.

Like the expert she was becoming, Cass swiftly untangled herself. "Yeah! I mean, you're probably looking for a princess who's been around the block a few times! It's flattering that yah want to get to know me, but seriously Pal, you're not my type." Cassidy backed out of the pile of loose rope and put a little more distance between them.

"Such an idea is ridiculousness itself," he protested, looking appalled. "Thine isn't a Marian so pure, but a common wench of the taverns! I, Angry Archer, would never conceive of the idea!"

'Oookay,' Cassidy silently drawled to herself. 'I'm no wench and I avoid bars. That was just plain insulting.' With an effort, she plastered on a smile and began strolling away as if they were on an ordinary city street… instead of a rooftop on the sixth floor. "Right, so you go find your princess and I'll go find my pirate. Then we can all live happily ever after." Was that sarcasm in her words? She winced even as bitter mockery lanced through despite her best efforts.

"Heh," the Brit chuckled to himself, not seeming to notice her retreat. "It is amusing that thou thinkest my deserving of royalty despite my humble means…" Then his eyes noticed his belt, or rather what was missing. "FORSOOTH!" Cassidy quickened her pace. "Mine purse has vanished!" Now she was jogging. "Avast knave, now I perceive thine game!" Can a human move as fast as a cheetah? A certain seventeen year old was eager to find out! Angry archer withdrew two arrows, took careful aim, and let fly. Almost instantly, a net unfurled between them and embraced Cassidy just as she reached the ledge. So that's how she was pinned, one leg dangling over distant rushing traffic, and the rest of her a tangled mess against the building. With difficulty, she craned her neck up to eye him as he approached. 'Honestly,' she silently fumed. 'How many of those freaking things does he have!'

"Tis a shame that thy life hast turned to crime at such a youthful age," Angry Archer muttered as he gave her a pitying look. Then he reached into his quiver and removed what looked like a little chemical filled dart. He began prepping it.

'There's no way anybody is giving me happy-juice,' Cass grimly reflected as she

surreptitiously inched her hand into her hip pocket and carefully pulled out her switch blade. 'The stuff would probably make me as crazy as him!' Carefully, she slid the blade through the net one strand at a time. As he lifted a not quite sane stare her way, she stopped. Her arms and back still felt a little tight, but she could now move her legs. Theoretically, she had two choices: rolling off the ledge (not recommended considering the madman in green on one side and a very unforgiving six story drop on the other), or she could try to inflict some damage with her lower half. Tensely, she watched his approach, little liquid filled dart armed and ready. With a bravado she didn't feel, she answered him, even if he really wasn't talking to her. "Well, Archie, I have a little problem with that plan…" His crazed eyes took on a dangerous glint at her new nickname for him and she resisted the urge to lean away. 'If I can face down a giant alien, some sanitarium escapee will be a breeze,' she coached herself. "Yah see, my life never turned to crime! I was raised by the finest crooks this town has to offer!" A screech of tires that sounded suspiciously familiar sounded down the block and Cass crossed her fingers that it was the same guy that sent her up here. "But mostly," she continued, "I can't respect a guy that has a run in his tights."

Amazingly enough, the mook actually fell for it. For a brief instant, those mad little peepers glanced down. It was all the time she needed. Lashing out with a hard kick, she sent the dart flying into the air. Then, since he was still there, she slammed him again for good measure without really concentrating on where she was aiming. Slicing a net open while perched on the ledge of a six story drop-off was a little distracting. Angry Archer let out a pathetic groan as he sank to the ground. "Oh, please, I didn't kick yah that hard," Cassidy chided as she finally sloughed off her bindings. Glancing back, she got a glimpse of what part of his anatomy he was clutching, and she winced. "Oops. Hey, sorry, Pal. I wasn't looking where I was kicking. No hard feelings?"

The look of agonized outrage glinting in his watering eyes said otherwise. True to his nom-de-guerre, he began slowly reaching for another arrow, a silent furious snarl on his lips. 'Now's probably a good time to leave,' Cassidy decided. He was between her and the only rooftop exit, and knowing her luck, it was probably locked. Taking a deep breath, the teenager glanced down at the open street down below, and swung over. Hand over hand, she climbed down. All the while harsh British curses sounded from up above. Rough bricks tore at her fingers, her arms ached, her toes felt bruised inside her sneakers, yet still she slipped down. At this point, she didn't even care if someone saw her, she just hoped that sneaky bastard of a robot was near enough for her to use as a shield if the arrows started flying.

Angry Archer would have been a very real threat, except the knock-out dart that until now had been on a trajectory straight up, now came right back down into one delusional Robin Hood's nylon clad butt. He stiffened, his face sporting a mixture of surprise and pain, before a dreamy smile grew over his features. "Ah, there is my Marian so pure," he mumbled as he peacefully entered the land of Nod. It was a strange and wondrous place, one without even a trace of teenage girls that stole one's belongings. This alone made it perfect.

Meanwhile, Cassidy was having problems of her own: her adrenaline rush was fading fast and she was only halfway down. Shaking, she noticed the ledge of a windowsill nearby. If she could reach it, she could take a breather, maybe even find a little cover if a certain someone decided to start shooting arrows. Sweating slightly, she edged a little closer. By this point her fingers really hurt. Blood poured freely from one digit, while several others were pink and raw. The last time she'd done any rock climbing was four months ago, and that was only a tiny boulder, not a shear brick wall. Telling herself to stop being negative, she tried again. 'Come onnn,… YES! Oh, I love you forever,' Cass silently cheered as her sneaker toe touched the edge. Biting her tongue, she shifted a bit more. With a strength inspired by fear, the brunet carefully reached out for one piece of stonework right next to it. She should have known it was too good to be true. Just as she was placing her full weight on that one foot, her left hand loose and reaching, the other clutching a brick for dear life, the unthinkable happened. Her brick crumbled under her hand. Letting out a yelp, she tried to balance, but her panic only made it worse. That backward dive into open air was the most frightening moment of her life.

Smoggy black air mixed with dirty amber streetlights as the world spiraled out of control. Cars clambered in a wild electronic mixture with her terrified scream and she flinched her eyes closed, unwilling to spend her last moment of life with an up close view of the asphalt. There was a hard impact that knocked the air out of her lungs, then everything fell silent. No rushing wind, no honking horns… just the quiet rumble of a car engine. One eye squinted open. Soft familiar gray seat cushions rose and sank under her butt, street lamps briefly shone their dim amber light through tinted Mitsubishi windows. Opening her mouth, one word hoarsely emerged from her sore throat: "How?"

Speeding merrily through late night traffic, the Decepticon behaved as if it was the easiest task in the world, even though it wasn't. Currently, he had his sensors primed for the slightest trace of pursuit after Cassidy's little rooftop drama. The current task labeled 'Getaway Driver' was currently taking up a lot of his concentration. After a moment, he responded. "How what?"

She closed both eyes at the sudden sensation of aching pain in her ribs, which proved she wasn't dead. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "How'd I get here? I thought for sure I was going to be road pizza, and suddenly I'm sitting in the front seat…?" Another throbbing protest accosted her middle, so she trailed off.

A self-righteous snort came out of the Mitsubishi's vents. "I wasn't about to leave you to splatter all over the sidewalk! What kind of mech do you take me for?"

'Yeah, Swindle cares for others. Sure…' Cass rolled her eyes, at least that was an action that didn't hurt. Spotting her duffle bag, she winced as she retrieved a few special items. 'Thank God I remembered to pack bandages and a bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide,' she reflected even as she unscrewed the cap. Removing a tissue from a different pocket, she set about patching up the ripped up skin on her fingers and palms. Taking a careful breath through the sting, she clarified. "No! Not that! I mean, how did I get here in this chair?"

Swerving hard to make it into a turn out lane before traffic could cut him off, Swindle clarified, "You mean you don't remember how you got here?" _Maybe she's mentally damaged? If so, she isn't nearly as useful to me a pawn._ Just to be certain, he ran a quick scan of her vital signs.

Jumping at the crackle of static across her skin and clothes, the brunet protested, "Hey! Look, I just meant that I had my eyes closed!" A blush stole over her cheeks at the admission, and she used the excuse of putting away her first-aid supplies to hide it.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" The light finally changed and he burned rubber to make it across the line in time. _Blasted organic style traffic laws! Aside from a few common sense rules of the road, Cybertronians aren't nearly as strict about road safety._

Patiently, the brunet waited for explanations. None were forthcoming. After a minute had passed by, she prompted, "Well?" Swindle didn't answer. Snidely, she wondered if he was going deaf in his old age. Yet again, she attempted to get him to rattle out an answer. "How did yah do it?" The bastard still wasn't talking. Finally, she sat back in her chair, her arms crossed over her aching chest. 'Unbelievable,' she fumed to herself. 'When it's something you could care less about, he'll talk your ears off, but if it's a subject you're genuinely interested in...' She glared at his dashboard with all of it's merrily twinkling lights. 'He clams up faster than a witness threatened by the mob!'

Consulting his online map for proper escape routes and plotting out ten separate plans in case of outside interference, at last he finished. Swindle then did a rapid compare and contrast between the fleshy currently sitting petulantly in his front passenger seat, with his records of that same fleshy from a few days ago. Then he spent a few cycles looking up what those differences meant on the internet… _Hmm, so lower levels of adrenaline are a good thing… And frag, she has two bruised ribs. Sigh, they're so slagging crushable!_ Thankfully, the information page he'd accessed reassured him that such a condition was easily self-repaired. Therefore, he could focus on other things. "The concept, Miss Nulte," Swindle began with his oh so smooth voice. "Is partial transformation…" Now his words darkened to a sinister purr. "Would you like to have a free demonstration?"

Eyes bugged out as the car door right next to her seemed to ripple and separate away from the frame, Cassidy squeaked, "NOPE! With rapid movements, she scooted away from the freakish sight. Huge claws were just beginning to make an appearance, sliding out of the cloth door paneling glinting and terrible. Then there was a shimmer, and the door was yet again a door, perfectly ordinary and harmless. Noticing that her hand was resting on the handle of the door she was leaning against, she flinched away. At last, she was in what she deemed was the safest place in the car, which meant it wasn't at all: perched on the center console. She swallowed.

Back to good cheer and false promises, Swindle smugly asked, "So, is you're curiosity satisfied?"

Annoyance flared briefly across her eyes, waging war with the terror of a moment ago. She hated getting played, by anyone, least of all a two bit salesman! There was also no way she'd sink to the point of being the damsel in distress. That was the route of wimps and swooning morons! Her features smoothed out into a mask of cool boredom, and instead of answering him, she gave him a dose of his own medicine. He wasn't the only one that knew how to use the silent treatment.

Observing her, Swindle mentally rolled his optics. "Like that act would fool anyone," he mocked. "Your heart-rate is currently fast enough to compete with my engine pistons!" Still, she remained annoyingly mute, the only sign she had heard anything he had said was a primly raised eyebrow. With a testy flick of windshield wipers, he turned back to his plotting, almost missing the last response he ever expected to get from her in a million stellar cycles.

"Thank-you," she whispered softly, gazing out into the night. Her pride had taken a beating, she was still as white as a sheet, but she was alive. The car didn't respond, except to tug her into the driver's seat and gently strap her in. That was sweet; the wriggling to make sure that the strap was dead center between her boobs wasn't. A pout formed over her features, before she sighed. 'Tackle his perversions later,' Cassidy decided, as she dug around in her jeans pocket. Again she felt what might be a wallet, a set of keys, the pocket-watch, and a driver's license. Pulling open the severed drawstring, her heart skipped a beat. What had felt like the time-piece was actually a stylized locket, the kind designed to hold a couple of pictures and a length of braided hair. In other words, she didn't have the goods. Nervously, her eyes flickered to the lit radio console, then took stock of the doors that could grow claws at a whim and the belts all around her. Feeling herself grow cold, she swallowed. Unaware of yet more unhappy news, the Decepticon drove peacefully onward through the misty night.


	20. Chapter 20

Confidence Game

By: Mooncrossed

Chapter 20: Not Dead Yet

_Whoops! Author blushes and ducks in embarrassment. I'm so sorry for the late update. Real life walloped me over the head. Then Pop finished proofreading the chapter and informed me that it needed some major changes. So, sorry again. Hope you enjoy this next installment. It was a labor of love. My thanks to Cybernetic Orange for her review, and to Screamer (Glad you're enjoying it, and I'm happy you liked my portrayal of the Archer. Cassidy's reaction is similar to mine when I saw him in the cartoon). I dedicate this chapter to my dad (who proof read this twice!) and to God, who's miracles made this possible. I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, Uban, Folgers, Starbucks, or Herbie. _

_On a busy city street sometime after midnight…_

"Yes," the huckster cheered as he swerved happily, ignoring the blare of nearby drone vehicles when he came too close. Coasting along the glistening wet road of a late night in downtown Detroit, Swindle felt like celebrating. It had taken a Pit of an effort, but he had gotten the pocket-watch back. He ran another scan just to make sure. _Yep, _the 'Con-mech boasted to himself as he made an oversized checkmark on his mental to-do list._ There's the all-spark signature of the time-piece, safe and sound within the little squishy's grasp!_ The Mitsubishi practically skipped on his suspension. As of now, his trouble's were over. "Miss Nulte, I believe you have something that belongs to me?"

Cassidy's problems were just beginning. Here she sat, the goods in her hands, except that there was no pocket-watch! With every poorly crafted lie, Swindle had made it obvious he was planning an unpleasantly fatal end for her once she recovered his property, and there were any number of methods at his disposal. There was his most recent trick: making his doors turn into giant clawed metal hands… Unable to help herself, she edged slightly away from the nearest exit. A jittery safety strap reminded her of yet another way he could potentially cause harm. Colorful memories danced across her vision of the moment she had first seen him shift form into a giant robot, and particularly of what had occurred within his interior. She shuddered at that remembered crunch. The sudden clunk of his tires over a pothole jarred her out of her thoughts and served to bring into focus one other charming quality of his, he might just decide to perform a hit and run. Gazing at the slightly ugly, featureless green car hood in front of her, she felt vaguely ill. If that wasn't enough, somewhere in there was a ray gun that could melt plastic. At the Decepticon's jovial inquiry, she jumped and focused on the bright twinkling console in front of her. "What?"

Swindle gazed at the quivering organic warmly. Now that the pocket-watch was safely within servo, her nervous behavior seemed quaint, even adorable. _Too bad I can't take her with me_, he regretfully reflected. _But I'm just too busy to take care of a pet, and I've barely made a dent in housebreaking her. Besides, it's horribly expensive to get a previously undocumented organic properly immunized and spayed. _Out loud, he prompted, "The time-piece, silly! You don't want to accidentally set it off, do you?" To his amusement, she seemed to grow even twitchier.

Looking from the clock-less pouch, to the Decepticon, then back down to the pouch, she scrambled for something to say. Thunder rumbled distantly outside, promising yet another watery deluge. She couldn't help but feel that it was an ominous promise of what Swindle's reaction was going to be like. At last she settled for the rather lame question: "It can explode?"

He burst out into deep Cybertronian chuckles. _Hoo, boy! Of all the things she could say_, he mused, clearing away wiper fluid. _She's just too cute!_ "Kid, it doesn't blow things up," he chided. "Just hand the pocket-watch over and let me take things from there. You won't have to worry about it hurting you anymore." Wheezing out another laughter laden huff of air, he focused on the roadway again. This next intersection was a little tricky, now that they were finally entering the downtown district. As he navigated a lineup of eleven drone vehicles, he couldn't help but notice how much the organic was shivering. _Aww! With a little extra grooming around her head growth, and the addition of a bow, she'd be even more adorable… No, I need to stop thinking like that! Keeping an organic is expensive! _

Blissfully ignorant of the direction of Swindle's thoughts, Cass had a much more pressing matter on her mind: how to survive the next ten minutes! Looking back down at the expensive drawstring bag that was decidedly watch free, she swallowed nervously. The thought occurred to her that she could stall by 'accidentally' dropping the purse, and spending a few minutes pretending to help him find it. Unfortunately, that would only delay the inevitable and probably make him angrier. So… honesty it is. "Well," she began, "that's just the thing… It's not in here." She cringed, expecting all Hell to break loose.

"Don't be ridiculous," Swindle protested good naturedly. Just to make sure, he performed another scan. _Nope, the pocket watch is right there. I mean_, he mused, _the only way it couldn't actually be inside was if…_ Any and all joviality vanished as his CPU provided an all too likely reason, and he focused back on the small cloth purse suspiciously. Yet more thunder rattled the windows, followed by the first few splats of early rainfall. Flatly, he ordered, "Give me the bag."

The little forest green man-purse was swept out of her hands by grabby seatbelts too fast for her to stop it. Nervously, Cass examined her surrounding for a possible weapon to defend herself with. Her pocket knife had mysteriously gone missing since her impromptu backwards dive off of an apartment building. Wincing at the too familiar tug of nylon across her chest, she did her best to reach her duffle bag on the far back corner of the Mitsubishi. 'Maybe,' she silently hoped, 'I can gunk up his systems with a well placed squirt of skin lotion?' Biting her lip and straining harder, she forced herself just a little further. 'Almost got it… Alright!' Twisting back forward, she spent a few panicky, fear laden moments trying to twist open the cap. That was when the purse dropped back into her lap with a negligent thump, making her yelp. Her brown eyes wide with fear, she glanced up at the brightly lit radio consol.

"That's the problem with All-spark fragments," Swindle sadly commented. "They keep leaving false trails." With a heavy spark, he replaced 'Find the time-piece' back on his to-do list. Already, his processor was hard at work devising contingency plans and alternate theories for the next stage of the heist. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Angry Archer must have done with the time-piece; his boss had been the original owner, after all. He changed lanes to turn right, because obviously, the last place he should be heading was Megatron's lair. Then he noticed his fleshling. She sat there, her dark eyes wide and staring, clutching a little white tube as if her life depended on it. "What?"

"Yah aren't mad?" Cassidy was hesitant to say even that much. Sometimes even the phrase was enough to set some people off, and she didn't want to be on the receiving end. Just in case, her little complimentary tube of hand cream was now primed and ready to inflict damage. And, okay, so it was a pretty lame weapon against a ray gun, but it was all she had! She blinked at the dry rush of a Cybertronian laugh through the vents in front of her.

"Mad?" Swindle snickered some more at her disbelieving expression. "Why would I be angry? This is just a slight setback, that's all. Besides, there's no profit in getting angry!" Still laughing to himself, he resumed his searching. There were only a finite number of places Angry Archer's little friends liked to congregate, and he knew them all. His wipers negligently swiped at the liquid now drenching his windshield. Noticing how she was twisting back toward her duffle-bag, he asked, "By the way, what is that?"

Freezing in the act of putting that little tube away, she offered a wide, all teeth bared, flawless smile. "Oh, um… skin softener?" She gestured with it slightly, before deciding a demonstration was in order. After all, he might ask her why she got it out and didn't bother to use it. The entire car shuddered as she rubbed the white substance over her palms.

"Ugh! Why would anyone want to become even squishier?" He made a point of tucking his elbow rests out of harms way and shifting her seatbelt to a slightly less smear-worthy location. For some reason that he couldn't fathom, she squeaked slightly and glared at him with malevolent fleshling eyes. They were rather pretty, in an organic sort of way. If she was happy or amused, they were a shade of tarnished copper, rather like a dirty penny. When she was frightened or enraged like now, they became an extreme darkened gold, like iron pyrite. Of course, he had already discovered that this particular species of alien had a very limited visual acuity. The entire planetary population couldn't tell one shade from another once it reached a certain depth, designating a whole rainbow of choices to the non-descript label of 'brown.' Just one of many examples of Cybertronian superiority, in Swindle's opinion.

Of course, there was a downside to every kind of organic, and Swindle got a healthy reminder with the sound of a very human sounding grumble. What," he complained out loud, making her jump, "you have to eat again? You just refueled nine hours ago!" At her startled expression, he sighed before consulting his sight map. The Burger-Bot was out of the question, no doubt it was being patrolled religiously since his near capture last night. He shivered from bumper to bumper at another almost engine like growl from the fleshy and increased his speed. _No, _he decided._ It's for the best if I simply release her back into the wild where she can rejoin her herd. She'll fend for herself and eventually spawn in peace. That's the most economical thing to do._ A recent amusing memory came to his processor of the time he had created a makeshift harness and taken her for a walk so she could bathe. Looking back at Cassidy with speculative optics, he reflected, _Then again…_

"Please tell me we aren't going to that disgusting hamburger joint again," she pleaded. Hoping to tug at his heartstrings, or whatever a robot used in their place, she added an extra-babyish pout. 'Maybe if I'm pathetic enough, he won't feed me anymore,' she hopefully speculated. 'Even starvation would be better than that grease-ball restaurant.' A dry, wheezing gust of unmistakable Cybertronian laughter struck her eyes at that exact instant, making her scowl. "What is wrong with you?" Painfully rubbing the sting of alien style morning-breath out of her watering eyes, she continued to complain, "That trick works on all the adults at school!"

"I don't go to your school," he reminded her smugly. _Ah, there's a good possibility_, he noticed, marking one particular local on his site-map. _According to the company advertisements, _he summarized._ It's cheap, has large windows, and has the added bonus of providing a location for your car to refuel. Perfect!_ Taking a right hand exit, he began calculating the fastest route toward reaching the eatery. It looked like the freeway was the best method of arrival.

"But, back to the point," Cassidy continued, attempting a 'let's be friends attitude' this time. "Yah don't have to ram one of their greasy, disgusting sandwiches down my throat. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate how much you're trying to…" Pausing for a brief moment, she searched for a polite substitute for the word 'bribe.' "…Comfort me, but really, I can do without." She couldn't drape her arm around the mook's shoulder's, so she rested it on his dashboard instead. Jokingly she continued, "I mean, heh, even fresh road kill would be a better option." Lurching to the side, the Decepticon suddenly found another target. It was small, rather chubby, and had an interesting pure white stripe down the middle of it's back. "NO!" Diving on the steering wheel, she wrestled it back into a straight course. Blinking beady eyes with a distinct lack of fear, the skunk gazed after the vehicle that had nearly killed it. "I was just kidding," the brunet exclaimed.

"You said you'd eat road kill," he argued. "And your kind are carrion eaters, consuming the flesh of other offlined organics all the time! How am I supposed to know what's edible and what isn't?" Another tummy rumble punctuated his sentence, causing every seatbelt to twitch. He was reminded rather eloquently of why he was on this particular road to begin with. Mentally shaking his head over the confusions of a species who would prey on other fleshies, he signaled left to arrive at his destination. 'Sumdac Trucking Co.' a sign proclaimed in lurid red neon over a large weighing station. Before the fleshling running the nearby booth could stop them from entering, the dull green Mitsubishi coasted on through.

"Hey, only trucks are allowed in this entrance," he shouted at the rapidly disappearing bumper. "Cars are supposed to come in over there!" The driver didn't slow down or even acknowledge he'd said anything. Shaking his head at the audacity of kids these days, the human turned to go back into his little booth, only to pause. A very unusual readout was displayed from the weighing station dial. "Six and a half tons?" Looking back at the little car, then back at his readout, he shook his head. "Great, the stupid scale is acting up again," he muttered, turning it off. He had a couple of calls to make.

"We eat cooked meat," Cass clarified. "If it isn't cooked, we run the risk of getting infected with parasites. Besides that, you wouldn't have wanted to kill that little guy. Skunks make Weasel's lucky coat smell like potpourri." She jumped as the Mitsubishi abruptly jumped the curb of a nearby sidewalk, then blinked when the door swished open to reveal a stunning sight. It was a truck stop, but of a kind she had never seen before. Pavement gleamed as if it was made of molten rock, spotlights shone down from three story high light poles, and what was down below… Semi-trucks rested in a row that appeared to stretch on for miles, parked in exclusive spaces designed just for them. Attendants, both human and pre-programmed simple drone robots trotted here and there bathing, refueling, vacuuming, and window-washing. Nearby, a multi-purpose store and restaurant provided for humans an equally luxurious experience. The dry slithery feel of nylon wrapping around her ankle snapped her out of her reverie, making her scowl.

"As stimulating as this conversation has been," Swindle pleasantly began, "You need to eat. Now go on! Get yourself some fuel before you skeletonize, or whatever it is you're kind do." Swindle gestured with a stray belt buckle at the nearby vending machines to get his point across. He wasn't going to say anything, but these human-made drone robots sort of gave him the creeps. They looked a little more advanced than the trash compactor drones, more Cybertronian. The sooner she refueled, the better. Though the organic favored him with a suspicious look, she still reached for her duffle bag to retrieve the modest store of funds she kept there. At last she climbed out into the wet, dragging her seatbelt shackle as she went. If the Decepticon had the ability to roll his optics, he would have. _Of course she would choose now to take her sweet time_, he silently groused. Then he saw what was approaching and every belt cringed, _Oh, no!_

"Excuse me, Miss," warbled an electronic voice right next to her ear. Already on the verge of a mental breakdown, the brunet leaped back into an attack stance. The small silver toned drone robot stood in the rainy night, not twitching an inch at her nervous display. Instead, it gestured at the vehicle she was currently attached to with one matchstick arm. "Do you require any maintenance to your vehicle? We have many services available." To punctuate it's sales pitch, dozens of devices, from suction hoses and spray nozzles, scrub brushes and paint touch up kits, all appeared out of it's torso.

Raising an eyebrow, the brunet looked the human sized robot up and down. Considering what she'd seen Swindle do, she was beginning to develop a theory about where the 'inventor' Isaac Sumdac had gotten his mechanical designs. Still… Glancing up at the alien that was still stubbornly mute, she shrugged. "Sure, Pal. Go ahead!" Ignoring how her foot was currently almost numb from the continually tightening seatbelt, she continued to peruse the vending machines in front of her. "A sandwich," she decided out loud, ignoring the jostling behind her. Warning croaks and yips began, a sure sign that Rover was finally aware of their temporary helper. "That's the smart thing to start with, just in case I have to leave unexpectedly." Plunking the change into the necessary slot, she waited, only to groan. The package only fell partway before catching on another lever and hanging there. Leaning her forehead on the glass, she groaned, "Figures."

Awful was the word for his current predicament. For one thing, the drone had no sense of personal space. It climbed and skittered all over his alt-mode without even attempting to ask for permission. Swindle shuddered at the feel of delicate little clawed servos and pedes on his hood before giving into the impulse to take a defensive swipe with a nearby seatbelt. What the child-like drone did next left him floored. Jumping high into the air, it landed on his roof with a scratchy skitter. "Ugh! Get off, get off, get off," he hissed in Cybertronian, punctuating every repeated order with another wild flailing of gray nylon seatbelts. It skittered and cleaned, leaped and climbed, even going so far as to wriggle beneath his undercarriage. _Gah! I'm getting her for this_, he silently vowed.

Perhaps it was a little alarming to watch a Mitsubishi jump like a startled feline and shudder uncontrollably, but it was also hilarious. Too bad Cassidy was too preoccupied to notice it. Other than realizing that the rain was tapering off, she was perfectly content to ignore the one responsible for her current captivity. She stood in front of the second machine, one that advertised pastries of all sorts. Currently, her gaze was fixed on a fist sized package advertising a slice of berry pie. "Come on, hurry up…," she mumbled. Rising up, ever so slowly, it began a majestic descent toward the bottom tray. Suddenly, four lower food trays sprang out smashing the treat into the glass. It also sported a plume of black smoke that poured spectacularly out of one side which hadn't been there a minute ago. Casting her brown eyes up toward the light polluted darkness, she moaned, "Why me?"

Looking up from the perch he'd adopted atop the Mitsubishi's roof, he inquired, "Are you in a hurry, Miss?" So far, the simple machine had encountered an odd obstruction in the form of dozens of seatbelts waving here and there. He had avoided them, of course. Forty-eight comma-Bee was one of the most recent models on the production line specifically designed to look after cars. This included rapid reflexes to avoid high speed collisions. 'And yet,' he cocked his head considering. 'Never have I found a problem such as this.' As he dodged yet another nylon swipe, the drone concluded that this required a group effort.

"Huh?" Turning her head, she gave a puzzled look to the poor robot currently hard at work scrubbing the life out of Swindle's body armor. It was dodging seatbelt buckles and grabby nylon like a pro. Finally having enough, Rover tumbled out of Swindle's interior and hid behind Cassidy's leg. "No, no. There's no hurry, um…" She glanced down at the growling green menace currently digging it's claws into the concrete. "Do you need any help?" Even though she felt a little foolish for asking, after living with a Cybertronian for two solid days, she had become a little sensitive to the robots around her. 'Plus,' she rationalized. 'The poor guy is dealing with Swindle! That's a trial for the rocks, plants, trees, and wildlife, let alone the general public!' Perhaps she was imagining it, but the human sized drone's face seemed to appear insulted at her question.

"No, that will not be necessary," forty-eight comma-Bee declared primly. He had now graduated onto a liquid spray soap, dousing the huckster liberally. Jerking a free thumb over his shoulder, he indicated the ten completely identical assembly-line brothers approaching in the distance. "We will do our jobs as required."

Abruptly recognizing the infantry of cleaning drones approaching to clean his armor, Swindle's entire frame jumped in alarm. At last deciding that speech was worth risking if it meant a fast escape, he hissed, "Cassidy! Don't you dare! I'll give you money, riches beyond your wildest dreams! Anything to get away from these slagging drones." His wipers flinched at the feel of creepy sparkless servos touching him, ticklish clawed feet climbing, and mediocre solvents assaulting his frame. They looked like newly formed Cybertronian sparklings, but they lacked any kind of spark! The closest organic equivalent he could find in the fleshies culture were zombies. "Femme, get these things off of me," he demanded. Shuddering at the sensation of a lifeless little servo scrubbing his side view mirror, he swiped with the nearest belt.

Surprised, both at the drone's rather military-like response and at the sales-mech's unhappy reaction, Cassidy thought for a moment. Deliberately ignoring the huckster's false promises, she inquired, "You mean you don't have drones in your culture?" Turning back to her own problems, she expertly hid her smile. Oh, this was just too much fun! A frown stole over her face as she was presented with a different problem. Standing before her was a candy bar machine. Within it was the melting remains of fifty-four chocolate bars and several more sparking wires. She didn't know how it had happened, it just did. Sometimes she hated being who she was. When it came to machines, it was a near constant. Sighing, she trudged to the next food dispenser.

Tweaking and manipulating, Swindle felt incredibly relieved when the drone he had just spent the past fifteen minutes hacking began wandering away as he'd told it to. _One down…_ Catching sight of something approaching in the distance, he sagged on his suspension. _And another twenty-two to go._ Despite the growing odds, he again took a swing at the three drones on his roof, and another swipe at the five mechanoids gathered around his chassis. Just like before, they all jumped out of the way and came right back to their jobs. _It's odd though_, he silently thought. _I've dissuaded one, and there are another nine surrounding me… But shouldn't there be one more?_ Abruptly cringing at the feel of five little metal digits mucking around in the internals beneath his steering column, he took an deliberate swing. One little drone body smacked sickeningly against the glass of his back passenger door. "Yes!" To his unhappiness, the silver painted robot climbed back to it's pedes unharmed, and just as mindlessly determined as before, it went right back to it's repair work. "No!"

At last deciding that she would stick with the basics, she now stood in front of a large square box of a machine. On the front was the image was a bright green plastic bottle covered with water droplets. Now, she could care less about sports drinks, her aim was the water bottle logo on the end of the push button list. Clutching her dollar, holding her breath for fear it would disturb the object she was trying to get at least a little sustenance out of, she gently fed it into the slot. With a dull whirr, her money was accepted and Cass pressed the appropriate button, then let the air out of her lungs with a grateful whoosh. She waited… and she waited some more. Dancing in place, the brunet anxiously regarded the machine that claimed to contain H2O. Nothing happened. Kicking it produced the same results. Shoulders sagging, she trudged toward the next empty promise.

There were witnesses, but Swindle was really beginning to not care. Even if it brought the entire Decepticon attack force down on his helm, he couldn't be bothered. If these little squishy created drones didn't leave NOW, he was blasting the place. "Alright, maybe I'm being a little irrational." Wincing, he felt little lifeless claws skitter along the inside of his trunk, a vacuum hard at work. "Perhaps I'm not being very understanding." Sensor nodes recoiled at an up close view of an empty sparkless infant peering curiously nearby. "But I don't care anymore," Swindle growled out loud in his native tongue. Opening an outer panel, he took careful aim at the nearest drone, and missed the little fragger entirely when it unexpectedly ducked. In disappointment, he watched the energy beam he had fired shoot harmlessly into the night sky. Several more shots produced the same results.

Cassidy stood before the food dispenser, an expression of longing on her face. So far, she had lost four dollars out of the five she had available, and she still had no food. Also, there was an alien drooling on her shoe. Rover looked up at her with a soulful expression on his froggy face. 'Okay, let's try this one more time,' she sighed as she shook her wet sneaker before walking on. With a soft yip, the grrbreazzzzrg hopped after her. Some truckers stared at the odd sight while others chalked it up to lack of sleep and headed off to bed. The coffee machine awaited enticingly at the end of the line. Praying to the coffee gods Uban, Folgers, and Starbucks, she studied the whirring machine anxiously. Nothing but smoke appeared from the side of the machine. In fact, there was a small explosion. Pressing her forehead to the glass front of the broken mechanical behemoth, she felt like crying. There was only one way she could solve this. Turning resolutely, she headed for the building's entrance.

"Only a sicko would make a drone that looks like this," he hissed. "Ow! Get off me you little…" A small dent in his left rear fender, all that was left from an unfortunate encounter with a stoplight-pole, was being forcibly pounded out by childlike tiny servos. "Youch! Stop it! I can heal that on my own…" He was about to knock the little drone to the Pit and back when he abruptly realized he had one inside of him again. "Aagh! Fleshling, get these things away from me! Cassidy!" His sensors zeroed in on her just as she was about to duck inside the restaurant. Determined, he dragged her back with every manipulating coil he owned. Both missed the fact that the sliding glass doors she was about to go through suddenly froze in disrepair. "Oh, no you're not!" Gesturing with his remaining belts, he demanded, "Tell these sparkless little horrors to leave now or I'm opening fire!"

"What? Are you serious?" The emergence of a very familiar ray-gun out of his hood convinced her. Wide eyed, she turned to address the nearest silver cleaning drone. "Um… excuse me?" Instantly, it was attentive, presenting her with it's undivided attention. "Yah didn't have to do that much… I thought yah were only going to wash the outside." When that didn't seem to penetrate, she gestured at the still ruined food dispensers. "And, um, there is that problem. They're all kind of broken."

Featureless robotic eyes switched focus from a sheepishly grinning Cassidy, to the monument of destruction standing right behind her. There was also the restaurant, where patrons were attempting to leave though an opening barely any wider than a coconut. A kind of buzzing chirp rose up out of the silent robot's head, even if it didn't move it's mouth and then it was all business. Leaping to action, it began repairs on the first machine it found. The other drones were going through similar reactions, all looking at the destroyed machinery and pouncing on the first malfunction it identified. 'And the belt around my ankle is loosening up,' Cassidy realized, brightening. With careful dexterity, she slipped free and walked away.

Watching this, the huckster shuddered. They looked like young scavengers pouncing on wounded prey. _Still_, he reflected, _at least they aren't climbing all over me anymore. All I have to do is get that backstabbing little fleshling back, and…_ He tugged his belt, only to pause at the lack of weight on the other end. _What in the known universe…?_ At last, his sensors located her half a block up the lineup of semi-trucks. She was clinging to a nearby gasoline pump, skin as pale as concrete, and babbling incoherently. The moth fluttering confusingly in front of, above, and around her was the presented explanation why.

Fed up with everything, he took careful aim with his stun gun, and fired. For a long still moment, nothing happened. Cassidy blinked at the place one nightmare flutter-bug had been just seconds ago. Now there was nothing but a memory… she turned. Correction, there was nothing except a gaping hole in the chassis of the semi-truck right next to her head. Peering inside revealed a grizzled weather worn face glaring at her from the other side of the ruined vehicle. She jerked away, recognizing an outraged owner when she saw one. The alien Mitsubishi slamming to a halt scant inches away made her leap back in alarm. A quick lasso job and he had her kicking and screaming in his front seat. One quick stop off to retrieve a small otherworldly house pet, and they were off!

Not at ease until he was several miles down the road and gaining, Swindle kept up his speed to twenty miles above the speed limit. Of course, his kind had drone robots, but they didn't look like people, much less infant Cybertronians. _It was sick, the stuff of nightmares…_ Mentally shaking himself, he went back to reviewing his plots. For once, a fleshling had used what little intelligence it possessed, and gotten rid of the time-piece before he could get it back. It wasn't anything he couldn't compensate for, it was just annoying. In order to distract himself from the phantom memory of tiny skittering claws and empty frames, he decided to comment on what this particular organic had declared earlier while on top of a six story building. "By the way, while you were dealing with Angry Archer, I noticed that you said that I'm a pirate? Moi? I am a business-mech!"

Getting half strangled after yet another foiled escape attempt really wasn't improving her mood. Added to that was the fact that she was still hungry, her face flushed when her stomach rumbled, and she was one unhappy teenager. She needed to do something to calm her nerves, and rifling through stolen goods was as good an activity as any. Quietly perusing the contents of the little green man-purse, Cassidy commented, "If yah feign lily-white virtue, Hon, I'll die laughing. Then you'll never get rid of the smell."

"I've established worthwhile business lines the universe over," he continued to rant, not really seeming to listen to her comments. "Product lines, a loyal customer base lasting for generations…" He paused as the organics insides voiced another protest and visibly cringed. "You haven't refueled?"

"Oh, like you've never looted," she argued back. And for you're information, I've got terrible luck with machines. Every single one of them broke before I could get any food, and you wouldn't let me go into the diner! So, it's your fault." After a cursory glance at the kinds of credit cards that were only doled out to the well to do, and a driver's license for one Moses P. Archer, she then began thumbing through the photographs. The image of a five year old strawberry blond in a hot pink dress, gauntlets, and black mask accosted her eyes. Cassidy grimaced, reflecting, 'Then again… this kid looks a little too psychotic to be adorable, considering the fact that she's trying to strangle a teddy-bear. Right, so, moving on.' Flicking to the next page in the miniature album, she was just petty enough to goad the Decepticon a little more. A mocking glint entering into her gold flecked eyes, she stated, "And besides that, you're one to talk when it comes to my moth phobia. I've never seen anybody get that worked up over a bunch of simple cleaning drones."

"Well, I…," he began, but Cass wasn't done yet.

"And getting back to the piracy issue, who says I was talking about you? That's a pretty over-inflated ego, right there," she added, going back to the wallet, specifically to some very unusual pictures. Cassidy's eyebrows rose. Apparently there was a super-villain club in town and she hadn't been invited, the nerve! Caped morons greeted her eyes, each one sporting a black mask. Flicking to the next picture, she choked. This had to be the worst one yet! Some guy with nasty teeth, dressed in a black and yellow scuba outfit, roller blades, and what looked like an upside-down missile on his back. He was posing dynamically in front of a statue of Hercules. 'Oh, brother!'

Internally debating with enduring the stomach noises of a hungry Human, or the time consuming task of searching out another organic refueling station, Swindle hesitated with his answer. Briefly, he considered the idea of finding or making some road kill and cooking it with a heat ray. She might eat it… or not. The sales-mech didn't exactly relish the idea of force-feeding her, so he reluctantly shelved the idea. Somewhat petulantly, he replied, "You said 'my,' indicating a possessive."

"Hah, you aren't 'my' anything, Hon," the brunet exclaimed, confronting him with a direct stare. "You're the one that seems to think there's ownership rights here. I've been trying to get rid of yah since day one." She went back to perusing the Angry Archer's belongings. At the next freakish image to accost her eyes, she let out an amused snort. 'There is no way that woman is his wife,' she thought, giggling. The woman stood there in exaggerated Swinger garb, with a too-short skirt, stiletto heals, and fishnet stockings. In case there was any doubt about her bad-guy status, the redhead wore a cute little black cape draped over her shoulders. Decorated from head to toe in clocks, the red-head sported them on her arms, her waist, her neck… 'She even has an oversized swatch for a garter belt? Yeesh, someone's obsessed! Maybe this Archer guy is trying to catch her interest by buying her a pretty pocket-watch?'

"I noticed," Swindle blandly remarked. "And that reminds me…" A length of nylon landed across her back with an abrupt thwack, making her yelp and scramble into the driver's seat to get away. "That's for your cute little invitation to all the carjackers in the greater Detroit area!"

She stared, before a sheepishly nervous smile inched to life on her face. "Oh, yeah, the gym… Heh, heh…" Brown eyes flickered warily from seatbelt to seatbelt. "S-so what's your problem? It didn't work, you're safe and sound!" Several more belts seemed to melt into existence and extend menacingly snakelike in her direction. The shadows grew as his windows darkened.

"It didn't work," he purred menacingly, metal buckles glinting, "Because every pathetic thief your dirt-ball planet had to offer, got a personal sendoff from me!" Abruptly his words changed from evil intent to sunshine and roses. "But I've forgiven you for that…" All seatbelts flicked away, as if they had no further interest in the organic in their midst, and watery moonlight flooded the car. Opening one squeezed shut eye, the brunet gazed around in a state of extreme disbelief. For a long moment she waited, her heart hammering double time. Swindle waited patiently for her to make a comment, but he should have known better. Cassidy always had an uncanny ability to recognize when she was being lied to, and this setup presented nothing but falsehood. Swallowing, she wondered, 'When's the other shoe going to drop?'

Apparently, he realized that, when she began a subtle retreat for the dubious safety of the back seats. _Well, we can't have that_, he mused, strapping her in place before she could move more than two inches. The small squeak of terror she let out was entertaining, but he had more in store for the fleshling who had inflicted everything from torturous carpools and automotive thievery, to zombie drones and the destruction of his best sales items. Firmly locking her in place, he continued, "The fact that you used an oily block of synthetics and animal byproducts…"

Daring to talk, Cassidy hazarded a guess. "Yah mean soap?" The belt holding her hostage tightened, causing her eyes to bug out.

"Don't interrupt," he stage whispered, "I'm on a roll. The fact that you used that on my windshield… That is, by far, a punishable offense!" He continued to cruise along at a slightly above average speed through late night traffic. In fact, since he was threatening Cassidy, the drive was almost perfect! It just needed one further addition to make everything complete. Opening up a menu, he began accessing some programming he'd been saving for a rainy day.

Cass was becoming reckless. 'Maybe I could fake a heart attack,' she wondered, her eyes flickering watchfully around. 'It might fool him long enough for me to get out of this mess alive!' She gulped when pieces of the steering wheel in front of her shifted aside to reveal a very futuristic looking gun. Stuttering nervously, she chattered, "N-now Swindle, if yah don't want me around, all yah have to do is let me out. Yah don't have to be this drastic!"

Allowing her an extra moment to admire the implement aimed so unerringly for her face, he answered, "Well I think there is." Then he fired.

White exploded into her field of vision accompanied by instant pain. Opening screwed shut eyes, the first sensation that translated itself into her stunned brain was the fact that she felt like she'd been slapped. 'Am I dead?' Considering the kind of company she was keeping, it was a legitimate question. She blinked uncomprehendingly at her snow-like surroundings. A whoosh loudly filled the air and her ears popped, exactly like alien laughter. In fact, now that she was a little less terrified, she could feel something soft flexing beneath her, exactly like Swindle's seat cushions. Shifting, Cass finally acknowledging that the white surrounding her wasn't big fluffy clouds. It was soft, even a little bouncy. Still, the expand and contract of Cybertronian lungs continued to fill the silence.

Just as she was in the middle of experimentally pushing the white thing down, the windshield came into view. That was when she figured it out. "YAH JERK," she shouted, her fear rapidly morphing into justifiable anger. "Sadistic… Freaking air bags?" As if mocking her, the pure white bubble of pressurized gas bobbed in front of her, completely unharmed even when she punched it. "Metal bastard," she railed. Even the seatbelt was against her, it's little metal button refusing to release no matter how hard she slammed her thumb down. "Evil Herbie!" Like it or not, she was effectively pinned. Air vents continued to wheeze with laughter throughout her tirade. Scowling, the brunet finally ran out of insults and subsided into a sullen pout. She was sore all over. Now, not only did her ribs ache, her entire front burned from the abuse of a car with a messed up sense of humor. Her face felt funny, and if he had broken her nose he was paying for it in equal measure. "Stupid robot," she petulantly mumbled.


	21. Chapter 21

**Confidence Game**

**Chapter 21: Driving Concerns**

**By: Mooncrossed**

_**Yay! October's here! In case you haven't noticed, my favorite time of the year is Autumn. I'd like to thank Cybernetic Orange for her review (Interesting theory, only time will reveal the truth. By the way, is it okay if I shorten your penname to Cyber?), and Screamer (Yup, those nasty airbags are a real hazard aren't they? Especially with Swindle!) This past week has been really hectic, but I've survived. Many thanks go out to my Dad (who proofread), and God (who provided all the inspiration for this chapter.) I don't own Paco's Tacos (Just in case there is an eatery called that), Transformers, or Mitsubishi. **_

_**At a lonely drive-up window somewhere in Detroit…**_

**Doug stifled a yawn as he did his level best to lounge on top of his company chair. He couldn't help it. At two in the morning, with the last customer having left hours ago, he had nothing to do. Everything was already cleaned, the money had been counted and re-counted, and he still had another four hours of this to go. Night shifts was the worst time slot to occupy. Just as he was nearly asleep, a violently loud car engine startled him into falling to the floor. "Yes?" The acne scarred twenty year old winced at how high and squeaky his voice sounded, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Ahem! I mean, yes? W-welcome to Paco's Tacos! Open twenty-four/seven, rain or shine… May I take your order?" Squinting through the miserable camera feed, he barely made out a broad car hood the color of spoiled meat, with the Mitsubishi Emblem emblazoned on the front. It revved a little further into view.**

"**Why, yes," a smooth voice purred back. "I'd like to have the Mega-Deluxe Meal… but substitute a bottle of water in place of the soda, if you'd be so kind…" **

**Tapering off abruptly, whoever it was seemed to hesitate, which Doug found odd for such a confident sounding man. Dutifully typing in the order, and stifling another yawn, he requested by rote, "And do yah want extra cheese and barn-burner salsa with your order?" **

"**Ugh!" The entire car seemed to shudder as if it was being jostled by a sumo-wrestler. "No!" Pausing again, the customer continued to talk to seemingly no-one. "What? How can you eat such disgusting byproducts? You do know where cheese comes from, don't you?" Another pause ensued while Doug attempted to see through the heavily darkened windows of the car via his rain drenched TV screen. He was no cop, but that sure didn't look very legal "Oh, alright! Lousy organic, okay we'll… I mean I will have four packets of salsa and…" Yet again, the car shuddered, this time even more violently. "****Extra**** cheese."**

'**Must have a passenger,' Doug decided as he sleepily rubbed one bleary eye. "Okay, yah ordered one Mega-Deluxe Meal with extra cheese, and a substitution of water in place of the drink. Would yah like to have some churros as well?"**

**Another hesitation solidified Doug's suspicions that the dude had somebody else in there with him. He didn't know why, but that ugly green car disturbed him on some level. "No, but thank-you for the offer."**

**Dutifully feeding the amount presented onto his cash register, he sent the order in for the night shift cook, Frannie. Each of them had to serve a stint on in this time slot at least once a month, and it just so happened that the two of them were the unlucky winners. It was only after the ugly green Mitsubishi continued on down the drive up lane that it occurred to him what had seemed so odd about it: those pitch black windows had never rolled down. "Yo, Doug, look alive," Frannie snapped, jarring him from his thoughts. A lumpy bag of Mexican food slid down the countertop and he barely caught it before it could dump all over the floor. The forty-ish woman scowled at him from beneath her oversized hairnet. "If the manager catches yah napping again, he'll can yah!" Turning and mumbling to herself, she wandered back into the kitchen to resume her guardianship of an empty stove. **

**Rolling his faded blue eyes, he called back, "Thanks, Frannie," before quickly shoving a blind handful of salsa packets into the bag. He turned, only find a seatbelt buckle scant inches from his nose. Frozen, he stared at the odd sight, only to leap back with a shout when it violently rattled. The belt followed, serpentine and sinuous, staying disturbingly close. "F-Frannie!" Disbelievingly, he dragged his gaze back to the abandoned bag of food, which was currently being nosed open by another curious belt. "H-hey, get away from that…" His own personal tormentor abruptly clicked metal parts menacingly and pressed in close. "O-or, or not… It's your call."**

**In a state of disbelief, he watched the other belt slide back out of the bag, apparently satisfied, and triple wrap it's length around it's top in a swift stranglehold. Doug winced at the crunch of paper. With a sudden zip, the entire snakelike length slid back out of his drive up window. The belt holding him at bay rattled its buckle warningly, before it too went whipping after it's partner. Swallowing his fright, the restaurant employee raced to the opening just in time to witness the ugly green car speed away through the rain at well over one-hundred miles an hour. "Doug, what's wrong with yah?" He jumped and spun around to be confronted by a disgruntled short order chef. She scowled at him in consternation. "Yah look as white as a sheet."**

**Opening and closing his mouth for a moment, Doug at last found his voice. "Frannie, I think we just got robbed."**

_**On a road several blocks away…**_

**Meanwhile, Cassidy was choking on her laughter. She felt sorry for the guy. Who wouldn't? Especially since she had been on the receiving end more than once. Letting out a snicker, the brunet mused, 'Poor bastard. He'll never want to work in fast-food again.' Then another thought occurred to her as she opened up her bag of ill-gotten goods. "I hope yah realize yah just started an urban legend," she informed him as she took her first bite into her burrito. "The phantom car with snakes for seatbelts and fire in it's tailpipes! Late at night, it appears like a ghost to steal the souls of hapless drive up guys. Beware…"**

"**Oh, brother," Swindle groaned at the sappy horror script assailing his audios. At last finished erasing the last twenty minutes of the drive-up camera feeds, he backed out of it's systems. Sneaking a belt around the femme, he firmly strapped her in place. "Stick to acting, Kid. You make a horrible writer. And chew with your mouth closed!" He shuddered and averted his optics when the organic took another bite. Needless to say, they had mended their differences after the airbag incident, though Swindle planned on keeping a recording for future posterity. Nothing gained cooperation like the threat of mass humiliation via the internet. Now that the activity of fleshy feeding had been taken care of, he was focused on a different matter. So far, he'd had a grand total of nine hours of rest over the course of the past three days, and frankly he was feeling bushed. Sensors scanned his surroundings, and at last discovered a likely candidate: the abandoned parking garage of a closed down department store. Perfect, in that, it had hundreds of exits, a severe lack of fleshlings to disturb him, was reasonably well hidden, and kept him out of the nearly constant torrential downpour. Slowing down, he relished the lack of water on his frame. The Mitsubishi shook himself vigorously before rapidly scanning his surroundings for the best location to take a power nap. **

**Scowling, Cassidy shifted beneath the seatbelt that loved to fondle. This, on top of the airbag incident, the initial kidnapping, and the property damage, was inspirational toward some of her most vindictive plots. 'He is so going down,' she reflected contemplatively as she took another bite of burrito. 'The trick is, how do I do it? I want it to be humiliating and painful… yet preventative toward future retaliation.' She was so busy concocting the finer points of her revenge plans that she didn't at first notice where they were headed. Not until concrete stretched on overhead a monotonous view of painted lines and dirty orange courtesy lights, did she dare to say anything. "Hey, what are we doing here?" Everything around her shook earthquake-like, making her tense in her seat. **

"**Mmph," the Cybertronian groaned, stretching on his chassis. "I don't know about you, but I am in serious need of a good night's rest." He carefully extended his windshield wipers, before giving each side view mirror a thorough rotation. **_**Too bad I can't transform**_**, he regretfully thought as he continued a vehicular version of stretching before bed. **_**It's just too risky on such a primitive low-tech planet. Probably wake up half dismantled with my parts on display in a museum somewhere…**_** Since the femme appeared to be finished with her meal, he simply dropped the remains into his subspace dimension. All in all, it had been a disheartening day. Every location his target tended to frequent was abandoned, every police report on the gang that the Archer ran with were too vague to be of any use. **

**Cassidy blinked owlishly when her bag of Mexican food mysteriously vanished. She wasn't sure, but hadn't there been another taco in there? Undoing the perverted belt, she checked under the chair seat. 'Nope, not there either… So where would it be?' Then she recalled the last place she had set down the bag and scowled at the perfectly innocent chair seat next to her, the one with an inter-dimensional portal in the bottom. "I wasn't done eating," she complained, batting away a stray seatbelt. "And yah want me to sleep now? Midnight hasn't even rolled around yet." Despite her words, the brunet resignedly hauled herself into the back seat. **

**Flicking off his headlights, he began the process of powering down for the night. This included cutting all power to internal systems. He wouldn't be surprised if she tried to use his cigarette lighter to burn a distress call into his windows while he slept. Swindle snorted as the little fleshling knocked one of his belts aside, before retaliating with a casual swat of his own. Still, he automatically made room for her on his back seat by tucking his belts away and relaxing his chair springs. If he ever realized how much he was becoming used to having a fleshling companion, the Decepticon would have been appalled. In his processor was the solid belief that the fleshling would go the instant the assignment was finished… sure. "Because you have terrible table manners," he answered before sarcastically adding, "Do you want me to read you a bedtime story? I know several that would knock you unconscious in no time." **

"**Nope," she replied as she attempted to make herself comfortable. "With my luck, it would be stock report statistics." So far, she'd discovered that if the seatbelts weren't in the way, then her arms were. 'Who was the wise guy that decided to make car seats so narrow anyway,' she silently moaned as she accidentally banged an elbow again. **

"**Don't tempt me," he tossed back. After a last minute scan of his surroundings, (Hey, in his line of work, it paid to be paranoid), he powered down. Just as before, not a light twinkled, nor did a part twitch. The only sign of life left was the occasional soft gust of recycled air from the Mitsubishi's intakes. To anyone watching, he was dead to the world. Hopefully, he'd achieve his new planetary goal: recharge longer than seven hours in a single sitting. **

**Despite her misgivings, she continued to lay on the mottled gray upholstery, waiting. Time passed by slowly. Another sigh escaped her lips as she attempted to relax stiff shoulders, and tried to give herself advice on how to get to sleep. 'Maybe if I just stare at something extremely boring… this chair-back for example, I'll drop off in no time!' Flexing her shoulders uncomfortably, she tried a new position.**

**Twitching, the brunet rubbed her face. The main problem was, her ribs hurt something awful, like she was laying on a baseball. She checked to make sure Rover wasn't there. No little green ball, no croaking green-tongued smile. 'Well, good. Hate to be responsible for injuring the little guy.' Sighing again when that baseball feeling came back ten fold, Cass chose a different position. 'Now I can stare at the back-rest of the bench seat,' she sarcastically cheered. 'Oh, joy!' Soon, she had mapped out every square inch of the object in front of her, right down to how many buttons were in the upholstery, and she was still awake. **

"**STOP IT!" The full volume bellow of Cybertronian vocals was frightening in intensity. Was it any wonder that the organic involuntarily jumped and clutched her ears in agony? Every light in front of the car lit with hellish fury, stinging her eyes. Much more softly, he muttered to himself in his native tongue, "It's getting so that a mech can't get any decent recharge around here…" Letting out a final huff of recycled air, he powered down again, this time leaving behind a number display: 11:52 PM.**

**Minutes ticked by. Rolling over again, the brunet attempted to ignore her new nightlight. Evil little electronic numbers bore into the back of her skull, taunting her with the time even if she refused to look. She'd given up counting sheep when the fluffy critters had started toting guns. Cassidy's eyes popped open in disbelief. 'It's official,' she decided silently even as she tried to snuggle deeper into a seat cushion that she could swear was breathing. 'I've spent too much time around Swindle.' Absently, she removed a piece of lint from the featureless gray material in front of her. Instead, the brunet decided to devote her time toward coming up with a plan that was so ingenious, so unexpected, so well thought out, that there was no way her captor would ever find her again! Unfortunately, this plan had the same flaw in it as all the others: She had no idea how to get out of the car to begin with. 'If I could just find some method of slipping away…'**

"**I said stop it," the huckster exclaimed. He'd been sitting there, listening to the fleshy talk about sheep and guns under her breath, not that he'd wanted to. Now she was picking lint out of his upholstery, and it tickled! He squirmed and swatted her with the nearest belt to make her stop. If she made him giggle, he'd never live it down!**

"**OW," Cass squawked at the point of impact before turning a heated glare on his radio. "What'd I do?"**

"**You know exactly what you did," Swindle declared self righteously. "So stop it!" Was he in any way childish about this? Why, no! Even if he did reel every belt he owned back into it's housing with a definitive snap, like a sparkling in the middle of a pouting session. No, there was absolutely no immature behavior in sight! **_**All I want to do is have an entire recharge cycle to myself**_**, he moaned to the universe in general. **_**Is that too much to ask?**_** A squirming organic in his back seat was his answer. Powering on a single amber light in the center of his dashboard, he silently dared her to try that again.**

**Stiffening, Cassidy very cautiously glanced back despite the throb of abused ribs. 'Is it my imagination, or is that light glaring at me?' For a long moment, she stared back, getting the impression that, 'Yes, I am being glared at by an alien car… Has he completely lost it?' Still, she didn't look away, and that single electronic light refused to shut off. This staring contest would have lasted for hours if two things hadn't happened. One: Swindle sighed yet again, this time in heated exasperation, and two: Rover woke up. **

**The canine amphibian had been peacefully napping for close to five hours and would have quite happily slept on for another day and a half if it wasn't for the nearly constant airflow gusting from the car's air-conditioning vents. At last, tired and cranky from having his frills dried to the point of itching, he sauntered out into the open from his nest beneath the driver's side chair. Human and Decepticon focused on him in startled surprise, having forgotten all about him in the days excitement. Blinking sleepily, Rover looked from car radio to human before unleashing his secret weapon. Opening his big toothless mouth as wide as it would go… he yawned. Then, satisfied he'd brought his point across, he meandered back underneath his chair and fell asleep.**

'**Uh, oh,' Cassidy panicked even as she could feel her own face react accordingly. 'The little creep did it on purpose!' Even knowing that it was coming couldn't completely prevent it from happening. Despite her best efforts, her mouth still opened in a return yawn. Sending a glare after the little green alien, she scowled as she felt just a little more relaxed. 'I'm a night-owl, and proud of it! If I fall asleep now, I'll loose my reputation!'**

"**Now why can't you be like that?" Oblivious to her dilemma, Swindle watched the little house pet's retreat. "There's an organic that can sleep like there's no tomorrow, and…" Catching sight of her facial movements, the trades-mech instantly focused every sensor on her face, her vitals, and the air around her. **_**It looks almost as if she was in pain… I'd better perform a rapid scan, just to make sure…**_

**Cass jumped at the unexpected sensation of electricity skittering across her skin. "Hey! I have no idea what you're doing, Pal, but stop it!" She batted at the air in emphasis of how much she hated having her clothes and hair turn into a temporary magnet, before rolling over and huddling up on the bench seat.**

_**No**_**, he decided after a careful study of the brunet's internals. **_**There aren't any injuries aside from the ones I already know about. So why was she…**_** He puzzled over the organic's odd behavior, studying previous records in an effort to pinpoint what had started it. Noting that Rover had also been engaging in this odd face stretching activity, he at last decided to give voice to his curiosity. After all, if it was life threatening, he above all beings had a right to know. If she died, the residue would be the Pit to remove from his upholstery. "What was that?"**

"**Mph," the brunet commented, doing her best to appear dog tired. A hard poke from a glinting buckle proved who was more determined to get answers. "What!" Patiently, he repeated himself Corrosively glaring at his radio, she gritted out, "It was nothing, now go away!"**

**Another hard jab nudged her left shoulder. "It wasn't 'nothing,' and it's disturbing seeing someone's face stretch like that," he complained. Of course, his HUD had already launched a data search, but without any word prompts, it was slow going. Observing the organic that was currently attempting to bury herself head first into his back seat, he absently commented, "By the way, if you keep attempting to recharge that way, you'll probably suffocate." Waving one arm in a distinctive, 'Go away,' gesture, she burrowed deeper. He snorted derisively, before checking back on the Internet search. "If you were a good little Human," he coaxed winningly. "You ****could**** just tell me… I'd like to know if some harmless little contagion is about to kill you."**

**At last, having heard enough, and really needing a breath of fresh air, she sat up. "Oh, all right," Cassidy declared, petulantly rolling her eyes. "It's called a yawn! Satisfied?"**

**Instantly, the sales-mech located the information and read everything concerning the subject in eighteen seconds, right down to the medical text. "Well…," he began before pausing as he re-read certain key articles. Frankly, he found the activity fascinating. **

**Cass stared, waiting for the flood of words designed to make her scream in frustration. **

"**So you use that sort of method to boost oxygen levels when they get too low?" He cast a jaundiced optical sensor her way before re-reading another highlight of such an alien activity. "And it is generally a precursor to sleep or awakening, as well as being a contagious action?" Suddenly adopting a much warmer praiseworthy tone, he focused on the location of a quietly snoozing frog-dog. "All I have to say to that is: Good job Rover!"**

**Groaning, Cassidy covered her face. "Why did I know you'd say that?"**

"**What an inventive organic," he continued to praise right over the brunet's criticism. "He's obedient and knows just what it takes to go into recharge when I want him to!"**

**Giving his front console a disbelieving glance, she demanded, "And what else does he do? I mean, please! That little Gila-monster…"**

"**Grrbreazzzzrg," Swindle corrected.**

"**Whatever," she automatically replied. "My point is, that animal sleeps as much as a pet rock, and…" She trailed off as a new thought entered her mind. Her voice scarcely above a chill whisper, she warned, "You had better not be implying that I'm a pet."**

**With metaphorical suddenness, a halo seemed to pop innocently into existence over Swindle's dashboard. "Who me?"**

**Emotionless and deadly, she continued. "Because the instant you do, your seat cushions are transforming their way into the nearest dumpster."**

**Swindle watched in amazement as the teenaged girl went from a timid and somewhat goofy organic, to a fierce and okay, downright terrifying little organic. The trades-mech could have sworn she doubled in size, and he could well remember her sharp little fleshling claws. Having an inkling that over this issue at least, he would probably loose, the Decepticon rapidly changed tactics. He liked his parts exactly where they were. "I solemnly swear to you, I see you as nothing less than an employee." She raised one dark eyebrow skeptically. "A reluctant employee," he amended. "Alright, one that's extremely contrary."**

"**Say it with me," the brunet patiently explained like a parent attempting to correct a toddler's misconceptions. "The word is 'hostage.' I'll bet we could even spell it! H-O-S-T…"**

"**But it's such a negative word," he plaintively interrupted her. Much to his amusement, he watched the femme's mouth drop open to argue with him, then close, then open again with a new verbal lashing that also didn't seem to meet her standards of punishment. **_**There are certain reactions a mech just can't buy**_**, Swindle thought smugly to himself. As Cassidy sat back and pouted her defeat, he cheerfully concluded that this was one of them. All sensors returned to the organic as she performed another one of those face stretching actions despite her best efforts against it. Seeming to realize she was being observed, she shot a withering glare his way. It took effort, but he managed to internalize the laughter that was threatening to come out, concluding that he owed Rover a few good treats for this. After a quick addendum to his priority list to do just that, he then spent a moment backtracking in his audio files for one very special sound, an organic sound, a yawning sound. Setting it to repeat continuously, he lowered his radio volume, and hit play. Entertainingly, she reacted almost immediately. Out loud, he commented to the femme, "There is something I've been meaning to ask you about…" **

**In the midst of another yawn, she squinted one eye at the robot's radio dial. "Wh-what?" She could swear, her ears just popped. It might be because she was working her jaw… or because a certain someone of the robotic variety was laughing at her. Her suspicious glare was somewhat ruined by yet another instinctive sleep filled reaction. 'Stupid Rover, this is all his fault!'**

**Snickering again, the Decepticon dared to boost the volume just a touch. Then he sat back to watch the show. "I've always wondered, why is you're family is so different?" **

**Somewhat muzzy, the femme gazed at his radio dial incredulously. Issuing a tired glare, she did her best to think. Cass hadn't missed that little snicker just now. He was trying to pull something… but what. Yawning again, she felt like cursing. She was a freaking night owl, not a farm girl! If she dropped off now, she'd never live it down! "Different how?"**

"**Well, it is sort of strange that you'd declare organics you weren't even related to as kin…" Swindle politely waited for her to accomplish another sleep inducing yawn before continuing. "I've seen you use blackmail as a form of entertainment with your brother. It's just nothing like what you're television shows depict." Smugly, he trailed off as the femme fought to stay awake enough to answer him. **_**This is wonderful**_**, the Decepticon decided. **_**It works just as well as knockout gas**_**, he silently enthused. **_**And it doesn't even leave a scent residue in my interior**_**, he practically shouted in his own private infomercial. **_**I might even be able to sell the recording to Megatron's forces for an inflated rate!**_** He was so giddy over the possibility of making up for his lost inventory!**

**Cassidy's eyes fluttered open slightly at a sound that she could swear came straight out of a cash register, sort of a 'cha-ching' noise. 'But that's ridiculous… YAWN! And besides, he was saying something… Oh, yeah!' Shaking her head to rid her brain of the gathering cobwebs, she gave him her answer. "Well there's your problem, Hon! Television isn't real life… yawn… It's entertainment, end of story." Giving him a lopsided grin, she mockingly patted one of his seat cushions pityingly. "Sorry to shatter you're innocence." The fact that she was more laying down now rather than sitting didn't even register.**

"**Letting out a snort at her answer, he slightly jogged his seat to help her the rest of the way down onto his bench seat. "I know it isn't real," he chided. "Cybertronian channels are just as misleading… But why do you do it." The fact that his belts were now helpfully situating sprawled out legs and arms into a much more relaxing posture wasn't even noticed, especially since she was yawning again. Just to make sure, he relaxed his chair springs to ensure extra comfort.**

"**Survival…in numbers," she sighed, her eyes drifting closed. Now most of the way to dreamland, Cassidy wasn't even aware of the words spilling from her mouth. If she had been… well, let's just say she would have been mortified. Then, if that wasn't enough, right before sleep took her, she said the last thing a sneaky Decepticon like Swindle should ever hear. "I miss my Grampa…" Her words trailing off into an exhausted whisper of sound before fading from existence completely.**

_**The Autobot Base at four O'clock in the morning…**_

**Prowl studied the holographic map floating in front of him carefully. It concisely presented Swindle's movements from the first moment he made landfall so many months ago, up to the present day and his current schemes. Precisely compiled reports chattered over his audios, baffling stories of a car that grew an arm out of it's door frame and caught a woman before she could plummet to her death off of a building… Or the sworn declaration that a homeless man gave of a car driving by itself with a teenaged girl sitting in the passenger seat. Still others came from an outraged trucker who's diesel engine had been shot out by some dumpy little Mitsubishi armed with a futuristic ray gun. The ninja-Bot's helm rose as the most recent report streamed in from an organic feeding station called Paco's Tacos, of a car with "Freaky belts that behaved like snakes, man!" Since cameras were severely malfunctioning at the time of the theft, it was assumed to be the workings of an overactive imagination coupled with the late hour. **

**Superseded over that was all the information the shipboard computers had possessed on the Decepticon's past behavior. Now, with his long narrow helm tilted and his pale blue visor coldly gleaming, he studied the accumulated data. A pattern was presenting itself to his CPU, one that told him precisely where his target would most likely go in the foreseeable future. At last shutting down the display, he rose to his full spindly height and silently stalked away. The others were either bedridden or recharging, and he felt personally responsible for the debacle of today. Thus, he was extra careful to avoid disturbing his teammates as he slipped out of the base. All his data showed that there was an eighty-six percent probability that Swindle would choose to hole up in one exact location: an old abandoned parking garage. **

**He was unaware of the Decepticon sensors trained on his form, nor was he cognizant of the triple-changer that diverted course and began following from high above. Blitzwing had decided that since the Autobots and the organics were both actively searching for his quarry, why should he? It was far easier to let the others do all the work and reap the rewards. Some might consider him lazy or opportunistic; he preferred to call it intelligent behavior. On silent wings, with stars and low lying clouds silhouetting his form, he trailed after the lone enemy ground-pounder. **

_**Meanwhile, in that same underground parking structure…**_

**It was some time around four in the morning when Cassidy opened her eyes to a world bathed in amber lights and shadows. She blinked. Even now, it was disturbingly apparent that the car was alive. Seatbelts twitched, wall panels pulsed with warmth, and a subtle inhale and exhale flowed through the air conditioning vents. Naturally, she did her best to ignore those aspects of the vehicle she was trapped within, but moments like now tended to increase her awareness tenfold. As she sat there, being reminded more and more of fairytales with giant monsters, the brunet wondered, 'Why didn't I notice this before I was kidnapped? Am I really that oblivious to my surroundings?' The teenager shuddered only to freeze when the seat cushion beneath her tensed, the chair springs nowhere near as comfortable as a second ago. At last, the upholstery softened and Cass let the breath out that she'd been holding. Slowly, careful to avoid disturbing anything further, she pushed herself into a sitting position. There was no way she could fall asleep now.**

**With warm chemical scented air wafting through the car vents, and silver belt buckles occasionally flexing in the faint light, it was only then that she noticed it. There was a sound, an odd sort of noise that rhythmically rose and fell with faint persistence. Was it coming from the radio? Easing herself off of the bench seat, she cautiously settled on the center consol. Yes, it was coming from there, yet it was too faint for her to make out from here. Pulling her legs in, she swiveled until she was sitting directly in front of it. Sometime during the night the dashboard lights had gone out, yet that noise still persisted, sort of a nearly continuous rush of air. Crouching next to the radio dial, and careful to avoid touching any buttons, she listened. Only when she found herself in the midst of yet another jaw popping yawn did she recognized exactly what she was listening to. "Sneaky bastard," she hissed vehemently.**

**Drowsy sounding whirrs and beeps filled the air, the mumbling of a Cybertronian in deep recharge. Cassidy was too annoyed to care. So there she sat, perched on the center console, fighting to stay awake despite the soft breathy sighs of pre-recorded yawns, and wishing all sorts of unpleasant destinations for the Decepticon's many parts. At this moment, Rover uncurled and showed his froggy face. Noticing the disgruntled sleepy alien tottling out into the open, the brunet smiled despite herself. Carefully reaching down, she gently rubbed his green scaled head. His eyes half lidded, and his skin frills rising in pleasure, Rover croaked his contentment before yawning and ambling back into his nest. Shaking her head, the seventeen year old mused, 'The little guy could probably sleep his way through a nuclear explosion if you let him.' Then she blinked as a new thought entered her head. 'Just how deep does Swindle sleep, anyway?' **

**Glancing warily around the car, she subtly retrieved her sneakers from the floor of the back seat. More disembodied mumbles in an alien tongue drifted up over the Mitsubishi speakers, accompanied by a seatbelt twitch. She froze, but when no further actions occurred, she continued. As silently as possible, she shoved her left foot into the necessary shoe and quickly tied the laces. This was all well and good, until she set that foot back on the ground. "Bzzz, hum-afer-mulla-ter-weeeep…," grumbled an alien voice. Cassidy sat frozen for a long tense moment, listening to the unnatural electronic noises die down to a whisper. Tension leached from the air and she sagged in relief, then she tackled the other shoe. At last properly shod, she studied the next step: a perfectly innocent looking gray colored car seat. Not daring to breath, she carefully eased herself down into the plush upholstery. Chair springs obligingly sank under her weight, seemingly oblivious to the human that was now resting upon it's surface. Still, she remained watchful, eyes flickering over wavering seatbelts and rippling cloth seats.**

**At last deeming it safe, the brunet cast her eyes upon the final leg of the journey. A car door waited, simple and unassuming. Swallowing, she cautiously reaching out, her fingers barely brushed the door lock. Chair springs bunched underneath her, lifting her involuntarily two inches higher, and she bit her tongue to avoid crying out in alarm. Absolutely frozen, terrified to so much as flinch, she waited on top of her mound of overly tense upholstery for the inevitable moment that he would awaken. Several minutes passed, until miracle of miracles, the surface relaxed back into it's previous state of sleepy oblivion. Sagging in place, her hand still gripping the door lock, she spent a moment trying to calm down. 'That was too close,' she decided, letting out a relieved breath. 'And I've barely gotten started.' Nervously eying the dormant radio console, ready to bolt at a moments notice, she gently, oh so carefully, eased that lock on up. The unexpectedly loud thud of a door lock deactivating made her hair stand on end.**

"**Whirr-buzz-grrruzz-org…" Every single seatbelt Swindle had extended in a long luxurious stretch. White faced, Cassidy watched that endless sea of encroaching nylon in mounting alarm, helpless to evade their careless reach. At last, pinned back against the glove compartment she cringed, expecting the worst. Instead, with a final wriggle, every buckle glinting, they all slipped back into their housings without touching her. She flinched one eye open. Perfectly empty air greeted her. Disbelievingly, she opened both eyes. An ordinary car greeted her vision, accompanied by the gust of sighing vents. "Gorrubllzzzig…," Swindle mumbled.**

**Now beyond paranoid, she eyed that last obstacle: the handle. It's stainless steel gleam seemed to taunt her. It was only the fact that the door was still unlocked that convinced her to even try. Biting her lip, she reached out and gingerly wrapped her clammy fingers around the handle. Nothing further occurred as she gently pulled. With a barely heard click, the door opened. What was presented for her hungry gaze, was an empty, poorly lit underground parking lot, with oil stains in nearly every parking space, and rough cut cinderblock walls. Cass didn't care. No matter what form it came in, freedom was always beautiful! Yet, she still waited. Aside from a soft electronic mumble and the slight flick of a windshield wiper, there was no reaction.**

**Hunched over like an animal, desperate not to touch any more than necessary, she edged toward the door. Ready to bolt at the slightest signal, she eased one foot out onto solid concrete. When nothing occurred, she slowly climbed the rest of the way down. At last, she had both sneakers planted firmly upon the hard ground. It was with a feeling of triumph that she gazed upon a world that wasn't tinted by alien windows! 'Yes,' the brunet mentally cheered as she began swiftly, if quietly, creeping for the stairwell door. 'Now I've got to find a pay-phone and a nice distant hiding place. Then I can let my folks know every sordid detail of what this bastard has been doing, and then…' She froze. For a long still minute she stared unseeingly at the view up ahead, before one single heartfelt curse fell from her lips. Dropping her gaze, she saw what had just wrapped around her ankle: a seatbelt. Turning, her gaze followed that telltale length of gray nylon to it's inevitable source: an innocently parked Mitsubishi Gallant. Cassidy cursed again, vehemently.**

**Sleepily amused, Swindle mumbled, "Going somewhere, Sweetheart?"**


	22. Chapter 22

Confidence Game

Chapter 22: Wakeup Call

By: Mooncrossed

_Hope everyone had a wonderful Halloween. To Mikoto-chan, thanks for the review! Be prepared for a crazy ride! (I'm trying to get myself into a rhythm of updating within a certain timeframe, and I really start kicking myself if I'm in any way late.) Thank you Pacificuser for your reviews. (I'm glad you like reading action scenes, because they are my favorite kind of genre. I haven't really watched very many episodes of the original series, though.) Welcome to the story Dragon's Redemption! (I'm glad you like it! The question of Prowl will be answered soon.), and to Queenofthebloodmoon, thanks for the review! (I'm sure Swindle's happy that he has one more fan rooting for him. As for the seatbelt thing… I don't really do well at one-shots. Most of my short stories tend to grow into novels, so I'll probably just incorporate it into the plot line. Nice idea, though.) I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, Frankenstein, or Ferrari. _

_In an abandoned underground parking garage…_

Silver shadows encased the horizon as a reluctant sun debated over whether or not to rise above the perpetual fog banks of Detroit. For some unknown reason, the world seemed to be holding it's breath. It was that odd time of the solar cycle when night creatures were heading off to sleep, but the daylight ones hadn't yet awakened. Swindle loved it: the only moment he ever found peace in the insanity of a planet gone mad. Not that he was conscious of such glorious silence. The Mitsubishi was huddled up in alt-mode, a solid dull green lump of grumpy slumber. All was peaceful in the pre-dawn air. Soft as a whisper, one of the shadows detached with spindly grace. For a brief instant, so quick it was nearly an afterthought, a thin frost blue visor lit up it's face as it turned to regard it's quarry. Then the entire figure vanished back into the darkness as if it never was.

The Decepticon remained oblivious, even as Prowl stalked ever nearer, going from the ceiling, to the structural support pillar, then to a balcony opening on the level up above. Pausing a moment, the Circuit-Su warrior scrutinized his prey carefully. He knew that a scan would alert the arms-dealer far too easily, yet there were other methods of detecting what he needed to learn. Growing completely still, he slowed his internal functions to a near standstill using disciplines that were now nearly forgotten. Silent, becoming more attuned, allowing not even a creak of one hydraulic to compensate for another, Prowl waited until he could sense it... the soft sighing breaths of an organic in deep recharge. His optics flashed open alighting his visor with a chill alien blue glow. Slowly, he extended a throwing-star.

Swindle onlined feeling oddly on edge. None of his alarms had gone off… yet still the sensation remained. In his line of work, paying attention to that disquieting creeping feeling upon his circuits had sometimes been the only thing keeping him from being introduced to the smelter. Unobtrusively, he checked his surroundings. Nothing was apparent to his visual sensors. Still keeping a bead on his surroundings, he analyzed his systems. Weapons were fragged, his transformation sequence took a Pit of a long time to accomplish, and if it was the mech he thought it was, negotiations were a waste of time. Just about the only thing going for him was the solid structure of the parking garage and all the possible exits. Using a special program for these sorts of occasions, he warmed up his systems and slowly crept forward on silent wheels, all the while examining his surroundings.

Unsurprisingly, the fleshling in his backseat was still out like a light. There she lay, virtually cocooned in safety harnesses. It was really the only solution he could come up with on such short notice. He needed to recharge, and while her latest escape attempt was admirably inventive, it was also annoying as slag! So, this was his compromise. The gray mass of snoozing nylon was completely immobilized from head to toe. She hated it, and he was perfectly alright with that.

Prowl slowly lifted his helm, intakes drawn and circuits relaxed, his optics unseeing even as his audios sharpened still further. A rasp, just the barest slither of rubber on concrete filled the silence between each inhale and exhale of human breath. His mouth tightening, the Autobot tensed in anticipation. When the small snot-green car coasted beneath the opening of his hiding place, he cast his blade in a sharp, deadly strike. Tires smoking in sudden acceleration past two-hundred miles per hour, the Decepticon zipped by unscathed, leaving a throwing star embedded in the concrete behind him. Unperturbed, the Ninja-Bot leaped from the opening, transforming as he went.

Despite the parking barriers jouncing his shock absorbers, Swindle was making pretty good headway across the underground parking-lot. _Besides, _(bounce, slam!)_ if I can't handle a little road-bump every now and then _(bounce)_, what good am I?_ (Sprong!) He winced at a particularly painful sounding clang of metal meeting concrete and mournfully watched as his right front hubcap rolled merrily away from him. _And I liked that design, frag-it, _he groused silently to himself.Optical sensors expanding wide in sudden alarm, the Decepticon abruptly swerved just as another sharp bladed projectile sliced by. It sheered through the air only to imbed itself on edge in a concrete support beam that he'd just ducked behind. Peeling out, he raced over the off-ramp and away.

"Whaa…?" Cassidy came awake to the steady rumbling of overexerted engines and what felt like enough belts to qualify as Frankenstein's bride. For a long moment, the brunet contemplated the ceiling as she tried to kick-start her brain into gear. She was in a car… and strangely, she wasn't overly bothered by that. The vehicle lurched uncontrollably underneath her accompanied by the sound of a screaming saxophone, just enough to jog her memory. 'Oh, yeah,' she silently recalled. 'Swindle… hard to believe this is only the third day I've been trapped here.'

Groggily, she set to work removing the professional wrapping job of an alien salesman. It was slow going, especially considering the bumpy road. 'Oh, what I wouldn't do for a cup of coffee,' she silently moaned. At last, she managed to remove enough of the restraints to sit up, a task that was easier said than done. Straining, exercising muscles that didn't want to work if it was any earlier than noon, she at last edged her head up enough to see out the back window. She instantly regretted it. "Oh, no," the brunet groaned as she inelegantly flopped back out of sight. "It's the psycho…"

Saying something not nice in Cybertronian, Swindle made a sharp high speed turn to avoid another throwing star in the aft. Rover yipped excitedly in the front seat and pressed his green froggy face to the window, fogging it up. "So nice of you to join us," the Decepticon declared, switching to English. "Do you mind getting this…," here English failed him as he let out a long stream of static and beeps before continuing with the words, "-out of my seat!"

Yeah, yeah," Cass yawned, not at all bothered by what sounded suspiciously like machine gun fire. As far as she was concerned, none of this was officially something to worry about until she had her morning cup of coffee. "Hold you're horses, I'm coming." Groaning, she set to work on the belts encasing her legs. 'Why he doesn't unbuckle them for me, I have no idea. I mean, he was the one that fastened them in the first place,' she sleepily reasoned. 'Therefore, he should do it.'

Swinging around a high speed projectile that looked suspiciously like a missile, the small Mitsubishi briefly hopped into the air at the resulting explosion. Someone had a case of Cybertronian road rage, and last time he had checked the motorcycle that was chasing him wasn't armed with those. That meant that there was another player in the game, and his sensors weren't telling him anything about who it was. _It's like commuter hour on Cybertron_, he reflected in exasperation as he ducked three more throwing stars, each of whom sent up a shower of rocks and sparks every time they impacted the asphalt. Horns honked angrily and drone vehicles swerved. _Really, though, I can handle this_, he mentally boasted. _What I can't__ handle is the tiny green flesh creature known as 'Rover' that is currently clinging to my front seat: the member of a species that has five inch long climbing claws!_

"YEE-YOW," Swindle yowled at the top of his vocal processor at a particularly nasty dig against his internal wires. Yipping in excitement, the small green house pet excitedly bounced to a new location, stuffing flying everywhere, as he tried to see what exciting place they were going to go next. Then the grrbreazzzzrg dug his claws in again, even deeper this time. Too busy avoiding the Cyber-ninja hot on his aft, Swindle couldn't do any more that curse in frustrated agony. "Get this fragging animal out of my front seat, Human!"

Yawning, she enquired, "Was that a cuss word?" An extra loud engine growl was her answer. She was also fairly certain she had heard a muffled explosion somewhere out there, but she might be wrong. While wrestling with the last safety restraint wrapped around one ankle, an abrupt swerve caused her to bang an elbow into one very unforgiving center console. It also freed her from the belt immobilizing her… she'd celebrate if she wasn't now on the floor. At last groaning, she climbed to something resembling a standing position and peered into the front seat at the excited alien animal. "Okay, yah little…. OH MY GOD!" Diving on the nearest seat, she broke all land speed records for fastening a belt buckle. Seconds later, the car was air-born, flying through the freeway guardrail like it was nonexistent. They hit the concrete down bellow with a shuddering thud that made the brunet's heart feel like it had stopped. Amazingly enough, the Mitsubishi's tires didn't pop; in fact, it barely slowed him down. Going from a sedate sixty miles per hour back to one-hundred and fifty in eight seconds, Swindle tore up concrete in his efforts to stay one step ahead of an Autobot with more than a few screws loose.

White faced, Cass stared straight ahead at the swiftly moving scenery and wondered if she was dead. Then her eyes flickered toward the dashboard. Two-hundred and seventy five, his speedometer proudly displayed. This seemed to snap her out of her paralysis. "Are you insane? Nobody drives like this outside of an action movie!" Rover bounced loose from the chair cushion and leaped into the back seat yapping happily, now deeming it safe to unlatch his sharp alien claws from sensitive alien upholstery. The brunet held the hairless ball of green frills absently, too incensed with the Decepticon's driving skills to care that her arm was getting slimed again by a sticky tongue. She glared lividly at the lit dashboard in front of her.

"Believe it, sweetheart," he crowed. Now that the huckster wasn't in a state of mind numbing agony, his naturally perky demeanor was reasserting itself. Spinning wildly to avoid another high speed missile from up above, he felt the fleshy slam into his door panels with the momentum. This was ignored. After all, he had more important things to worry about: like the oncoming traffic.

"Okay, I'll believe you're insane," she replied with sarcastic good humor. She gritted her teeth through another high velocity spin that dragged her the other way, all the while with a happily chirping Rover punctuating the background. At last, with her curly brown hair disheveled and feeling a rapidly developing headache, she sat up to regard the view. 'Well, at least we're pointed in the right direction now…' Taking a deep breath, she organized her thoughts to try to reason with an alien nut-job. "Look, could yah stop trying to apply for a pilot's license the hard way? Or… I don't know, try to blend in with traffic?" Craning her neck, she peered out the back window despite the stiffening restraints. Nothing was in sight except the slowly rising sun and a couple of spooked truckers. "It doesn't even look like the psycho's still there."

Flying in a graceful arch, too fast for the human eye to see, a throwing star made a rapid descent for Swindle's hood. His sensors only barely sighted the deadly projectile in time and his brakes took care of the rest. Dust flew up in the air as Mitsubishi seatbelts automatically cinched in tight over the fleshling that was flying forward to kiss his windshield. Reversing gears and spinning rapidly, the huckster reviewed his options. They weren't good. Up ahead was one of the worst traffic jams he'd seen since arriving on this planet. Cars was too disorganized to drive around successfully, and there was an Autobot fast approaching from that direction, besides. He decided on the third option and charged across five lanes of traffic instead. Horns blared loudly and several cars careened into one another in their efforts to avoid hitting him. Ignoring her terrified screech and little needle-like fingernails digging into his upholstery, he called out, "Don't backseat drive, Kid! I've been doing this longer than you've been in existence!"

"And yah do such a wonderful job at hiding it," the brunet snarked back. She winced as the vehicle hopped the edge of the freeway directly into an open farm field. His shocks were not up to par when it came to hopping gopher holes. Vegetation sprayed into the air beneath Swindle's spinning tires as he wheeled around at over a hundred miles an hour. A sign that said 'Peas' in big black letters plastered itself to the windshield, before negligent wipers easily swept it out of the way. Looking shakily back, Cassidy cringed. Huge swaths of greenery were now torn out of the ground wherever they had driven, and someone wasn't going to be very happy with them.

Through it all, Swindle was maintaining a steady commentary not unlike a tour guide. "I don't really go for this kind of activity," he admonished himself in slightly embarrassed tones. Incredulously, the fleshling eyed his cheerfully twinkling front console. "It's terrible for the suspension and gets far too much negative attention for my taste. But eh… why not?" Barely avoiding slamming into a tractor by a wire's breadth, he performed a perfect dust spewing doughnut in the loose soil. "Back in my youngling years, I was friends with someone named Wildrider. He taught me a lot about stunt driving…" A horse whinnied in panic and went galloping past, thankfully unharmed. "Not all that legal, mind you, but it's still gotten me out of a jam or two in the past…"

"Can we skip the history lesson," Cassidy interrupted. "The psycho's gaining… I think?" She trailed off as it became obvious that the one now chasing them wasn't a tall skinny alien, it was a foul faced farmer driving a tractor. 'And, oh, look…,' she mused, biting her lip. 'He has a shotgun.'

At last gaining traction on the loose soil, Swindle shot forward like a startled jackrabbit. "Hah, hah," he exclaimed exuberantly. "That's not the one we have to worry about! It's just a local blowing off steam!" Darting around a nearby barn, they just barely missed the crack of flying buckshot. Turning one more corner, the Decepticon skidded to a sudden halt amidst the angry farmer's loud cursing.

'We stopped?' The brunet froze in sudden alarm. 'Why did we stop?' Little buttons twinkled and flickered in front of her, so she knew he wasn't dead. Swallowing, she attempted to convince her vocal chords to work at something other than screaming levels and said, "Hey, um, Swindle?" Despite the restrictions of the seatbelt, she sank down lower. "Do yah have any weapons, like maybe a gun or two? I mean, I always thought you guys practically had them sticking out of every orifice!"

"Such lovely descriptive terms," the sale's mech purred back, his vocals thick with sarcastic praise. "While that would normally be the case, currently I'm a little compromised!" He was deeply enmeshed in codes and mechanized workings the little organic couldn't begin to follow. Unfortunately, thanks to his cannon going missing, an uncategorized amount of his inventory being destroyed, and a good deal of his energy stores getting eaten up, he was in deep trouble. Still, he did have a few tricks installed that should prove useful… Focusing on one particular section of programming, he forced as much power as taxed systems would allow, and did it! As of now, he had one more trick left. The state of his slowed down reaction time, though, left him a little worried. It was while he was wracking his processor for a plan, any plan, that he suddenly remembered the fleshling.

Cassidy was experiencing that long drawn out absence of sound, the kind that tends to occupy the center of a storm, or in this case… the seconds before an imminent attack. The teenager's hair stood on end as she suggested a possible solution… she hoped. "O-or maybe yah could use you're ray gun? I kind of doubt it only works on payphones and moths."

"Nah," Swindle cheerfully interrupted her. "I've got something a lot better than a cheap little stun gun!" Just to make sure the organic would stay put, he looped an extra four seatbelts around her upper torso and waist. For the kind of plan he was about to implement, it was for the best if the fleshling was relatively secure.

Already on edge from the leap off the freeway bridge, the brunet gave Swindle's radio an incredulous look. "That was a STUN GUN?" Then she noticed something happening. Pieces of the dashboard were folding back to reveal a futuristic, brightly glowing alien computer keyboard. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she muttered, blinking in disbelief.

"Now, here's where I need a little interactive help from you," Swindle smoothly announced, ignoring her answering groan. "You see the button panel to your left? When I give the signal, I want you to push the green key on the top row, followed by the red and yellow ones simultaneously on the bottom row."

"What?" She was already out of her seatbelts and retreating post haste in the opposite direction. Four clingy lengths of nylon wrapped around her body, halting any further progress, and insistently dragged her back. "Swindle," she pleaded. "I can't press your buttons!"

"But you're so good at it," the 'Con-mech snidely answered. "Some of my systems are still a little slow, and sad to say, but you're reflexes are a lot faster than mine." Nudging her playfully into the passenger seat, he snugly belted the apprehensive teenager in. "Minutes are ticking by, Kid," Swindle reminded her. "They'll be coming around the corner any minute." He didn't want to admit it, but he was getting mildly worried. Rapidly, he calculated the odds of making it out of this fiasco alive if he pulled a runner. The answer came back, and just as he'd expected, they were abysmal. _Point zero-zero two percent? My customers get better odds than that in their contracts!_ After casting out another scan of the Autobot, he mused, _Huh, looks like the cycle-Bot has his servos full trying to placate the fleshy farmer…_ Noticing an extreme lack of activity from Cassidy despite his oh-so-gracious offer, he added a slightly brighter glow to the buttons of his weapons systems. Didn't that usually work when luring primitive life forms? Instead of the femme drawing closer like he expected, she shrank back like it might bite her. An audible groan rose up from the put upon car.

Aiming a glare at the Mitsubishi radio, Cassidy clenched hopelessly shaking hands. 'This is just great,' she groused silently. 'I didn't want a car, I got one anyway. When I prayed that someone would steal it out of my life, it stole me!' Focusing again upon that radioactive alien keyboard, she unknowingly broke out in a cold sweat. 'And now it wants me to fire up some kind of weird super weapon that is going to do God knows what?' In her minds eye, she was picturing everything from laser guns to the atom bomb, all just a hairs breadth away from being activated. Swallowing hard, she shrank back. She hadn't been lying when she had mentioned her bad luck with electronics. It seemed like the poor computer her family owned was crashing every other week, the clothes washer hated her, and the bathroom clock-radio was now permanently stuck on the elevator music channel!

"Look… Cassidy, the weapons won't hurt you," he desperately reassured her in a rare burst of honesty. Giving her a comforting hug with the nearest belt, he tried to appear as encouraging as possible. Thinking he had guessed the correct reason she was so hesitant, he put an extra dose of sincerity into his words when he soothingly lied, "And I promise you, nobody's going to die just because of a little keyboard action." Swindle almost threw a fit when the femme gave him an unmistakable, 'Who are you trying to kid,' expression, before scootching out of reach. If he could have, he would be grinding his dentas. _Aren't hostages supposed to be obedient, docile little things? Why do I have to have a defective one?_ Counting to a thousand in rapid order, he began searching diligently through his processor for a different tactic.

Cassidy's shaking had gotten worse, and she would have been horribly embarrassed if she knew her skin was now a distinct shade of pale. "It's not me I'm worried about," she chattered nervously. "I'm worried about you!"

Any and all lights flashed into existence at her words. To say he was startled would be an understatement. "Me?"

"Yes!" She nodded to emphasize her point and drew her hands, now more like horribly shaking fists, into her lap. "I know that somehow, someway, I'll mess up your systems and you'll get pissed off, or you'll blow a fuse, or light on fire… It's what happens to all the electronics in my life!" Gritting her teeth, she squinted out the window through the billows of dust still clogging the air. There was still no sign of the farmer or Mr. Psycho, yet somehow she didn't find that fact very reassuring.

"Sweetheart," he replied in sugary tones. "I promise not to get angry, and I highly doubt you'll do that much damage just by pressing three measly buttons." _After all_, he ironically reflected. _There isn't a handheld Cybertronian electronuclear magnet within her reach._ "Now, come on…" Swindle nudged her with an elbow rest gently. "Just try it out. Why don't you think of it like those cute little toys you humans play with. Oh, what are they called? That's it: video games!"

Cass bit her lip as she considered the keyboard in front of her. Mournfully she lamented, "Why couldn't this be the Middle Ages? All they had back then were arrows and swords! Those are a lot less freaky than napalm! Or fast forward to the Old West when simple handguns were all the rage!" Okay, she was chattering. She hated herself for being such a wuss, but she just couldn't help herself. The robot she loved to hate had neglected to mention what this weapon would do, so knowing Swindle, it was something that was going to be destructive with a side of crazy. Hesitantly, she reached out a damp cold hand toward that cheerfully glowing keyboard of doom and gently placed her fingers on the warm buttons. Hopefully, she wasn't going to be tossed in the clinker for committing manslaughter.

In the process of doing a last minute systems check, he skeptically asked, "Do you even know how to use those weapons?"

Squinting through the windshield and trying build up her nerves, she stuttered, "Th-throwing knives since I was seven, and I've been going to the target range since I was twelve, but I hate the bigger guns. A heavy recoil stings like crazy! Give me a Nine Millimeter any day! S-swords didn't get into the picture until Junior High School, though." That was when a thought occurred to her, abruptly inspiring her to pin his radio with an accusing look. "This super weapon is going to have a kick, isn't it?"

"Well…," he hedged. The organic stared at him for a bare second before she dove on the discarded safety harness like a lifeline. That was when the first warning pinged. Swindle tensed, unknowingly freezing his belt in mid-way. Panicking slightly, the brunet yanked and jerked, trying to get the stupid seatbelt to cooperate. All his attention was now focused on his sight map, which was beginning to fizzle into incomprehension. _Maybe I took more damage than I thought_, the sales-mech wondered uneasily. _Or perhaps that Autobot has a new cloaking device…?_ Nervously, he boosted the power to his weapons. "Cassidy," he warned.

Growing still, the brunet's breath caught in her throat and her hands became slack. The only thing she was paying attention to was that feeling, that electrifying heart-stopping instinctive understanding that they were about to be attacked. "Drive," she squawked, twisting around to stare out the front windshield in alarm.

He leaped forward on all four tires right when the tall lanky Autobot stepped directly into view. Cassidy screamed in alarm and covered her eyes. Swindle yelled and triple wrapped the squishy in equal terror. Desperately, he tried to put on the brakes, swerve, anything to avoid a head on collision that was sure to knock out his engine block. Imagine their surprise when they passed right through the mech as if he wasn't even there. Seconds later, the Decepticon managed to put on the brakes with a spray of dirt and the image fizzled out of existence like a bad movie projection. "Whew," Swindle exclaimed as he sagged on his tires. "It was just a hologram, thank Primus!"

Shakily looking back the way they had come, she saw nothing but tire-tracks and swirling dust. A sudden alarmed cry of saxophones accompanying a clamor of electric guitars made her jump and look back toward the front. There, looking decidedly un-amused, was the real robot, and he had five giant throwing stars in his long thin hands. Shrieking in terror, she slammed her fingers down on the keyboard just as the psycho cast his arm back to throw.

Swerving, the Decepticon cursed. "No, you hit the wrong slagging buttons! I should have known better than to…" He trailed off in awe, his tires coasting to a halt. What his sensors revealed to him was beautiful. Instead of his organic alarm going off, which is what she had activated, a bubble of liquid electricity rose up around his form accompanied by blinding light so bright it could easily disrupt the optical function of the average Cybertronian. While he was still smarting from the visual assault, his sensors presented the second phase of this mysterious reaction. The electrical bubble popped and flowed along the ground frying anything in it's path. Swindle's vision cleared just in time to see Prowl dance in place like a marionette before dropping anticlimactically to the ground in stasis-lock. As if on autopilot, the 'Con reversed gears, turned, and slowly left.

_Where the frag had that come from?_ Running an internal diagnostic, his systems came back clean. There wasn't a trace of any kind of futuristic electrocution ray. _That's ridiculous, though. A weapon can't appear and disappear on a whim!_ Running a more in depth scan, he double and even triple checked just to make sure. Finally, with a slightly shaky huff of annoyance, he set aside the internal map of his own schematics. Except for a short message on a logic error that the femme had created when she had accessed his dormant organic alarm rather than the weapons he'd been priming, there was nothing wrong.

Slumped over in the front passenger seat, Cassidy was absolutely exhausted. She blinked blearily at the foggy early morning traffic. Now that all the excitement was over with, the brunet felt like she was seconds away from a serious nap. 'That's the problem with an adrenaline rush,' she mused with tired good humor. 'They're fun while it's happening, but they suck during the aftermath.' Absently patting a nearby jittery seat cushion, she quietly offered the closest equivalent to a victory cheer that she could manage. The chair springs tensed slightly beneath her palm. After a moment, she muttered, "Nice weapon," and withdrew her hand.

"Thanks," the huckster muttered distractedly as he reviewed the sensory data from a few minutes ago for the sixteenth time running. "It wasn't a weapon that you activated, though," he explained. "That was my alarm system….so to speak." At least, it was according to his memory banks. He loved a good mystery, but not when he couldn't figure out where the prize was. Opening up his sight map again, he wracked his processor for an answer that wouldn't appear. _Where did that energy burst come from? It's driving me half crazy because I want it! But now it's just… gone. Frag it!_

Brown eyes abruptly flew open in worn out accusation, "Yah mean that you've had that freaky thing on every night? If some random jerk even accidentally touched it, they would have gotten charbroiled!" Her accusing glare at the twinkling front console was somewhat ruined by an abrupt sleepy yawn.

Laughing out loud at the sight, he deciding against informing her that the electric shock field wasn't supposed to get any higher than the zap from an electric plug. At last deciding to shelve his investigation until later, Swindle concentrated on finding another likely hidey hole to plot the next stage of the heist. "You look tired," he observed, as he cut off a Ferrari in the next lane.

"Uh huh," she commented grumpily. "An adrenaline rush will do that. Prepares yah for the worst, then leaves yah all sleepy afterwards."

"Why don't you take a nap, then," Swindle invited. "I still have a few more phases in the next stage of the plan to set into motion. We could continue our search for the time-piece later."

"Oh, no yah don't," the brunet declared, aiming a stubborn glower toward his radio as she settled in more securely so she wouldn't lie down quite as easily. "Knowing how yah attract trouble, Armageddon will probably hit the next time I fall asleep. So the answer is no!" Casting a determined gaze out the window, she crossed her arms over the twitchy seatbelt on her chest in a futile effort to make it hold still.

"Nonsense," Swindle purred in his most convincing sale's floor persona, the one that could convince desert nomads to invest in ski-equipment. "Armageddon is light years away in another solar system entirely! I'm not even certain if she is still functional." Watching the organics eyes widen comically, he fought down an abrupt laugh. When she wasn't being bothersome, she was awfully fun to tease.

_Meanwhile, back on the farm…_

Old Mr. Mathus leaned casually against the second story of his farmhouse, undaunted by the giant alien currently lying prone over his strawberry patch. Casting his eyes over what had once been a farm, but was now more in keeping with a raceway, he contemplatively calculated the cost of repairs. While it was true that so much destruction was painful to look at, the farmer was also well aware that Sumdac Industries, and by proxy the city of Detroit, were ripe for suing.

Calmly, he took another drag on his cigarette. He'd deciding that he'd needed it after getting forcibly disarmed and relocated to the top of his own roof by an alien the height of a telephone pole. 'Thankfully, the horses are alright,' Mathus noted, observing the mare and her colts running wildly in the distance. As Prowl groaned and slowly sat up with a barely discernable whir of parts, the farmer ran a critical eye over the alien's form. Noting how the skeletal giant had several dents, a faint smell of singed circuits, and some kind of blue glowing liquid dripping sluggishly out of one arm, he raised one eyebrow. At last, the farmer commented matter-of-factly, "Yah, should've let me shoot 'em."


	23. Chapter 23

Confidence Game

Chapter 23: Just Dropping By

By: Mooncrossed

_Happy Thanksgiving everybody! Hey, Screamer, nice to hear from you again. I'm glad you liked the latest chapter. I don't own Merry Maid, Mitsubishi, or Transformers. _

_Somewhere on a Detroit back road…_

"Well, that was a lovely display of teamwork if I do say so myself," Swindle cheered in his most sales friendly tone of voice. Swerving around a pedestrian with a bag of groceries, he just barely skimmed past a delivery truck going the opposite direction. The honking horns and organic screams which resulted didn't even phase him.

"Yay, us," the teenager mumbled. If she wasn't so worn out, she'd try manipulating him into toning it down a little. When he did things like this, she felt like she was trapped in an infomercial. Even a goaded outburst was better than this! She could easily predict what he'd say next: sell, sell, sell, blather, useless platitude, sell, sell… The worst part was, he wasn't really trying to get rid of anything. He was just verbally stuck on autopilot. "Oh, God, I need earplugs," Cass moaned as she used her hands in a fruitless attempt to muffle the blaring voice surrounding her. It barely helped.

"Why," the huckster continued, not appearing to notice the organic's futile attempts to ignore him. "I'll bet if we worked together more often, we could make a killing in revenues. I can picture it now! With my superior sales savvy and good looks, and with your natural talents, no customer would stand a chance! We'd be rich beyond our wildest dreams before the year's out!"

'Maybe if I close my eyes and wish really hard, I won't hear him anymore,' Cassidy was desperate enough to hope. Slamming her eyelids down, she held her breath and waited. Miraculously, it worked! In happy disbelief the brunet looked around. 'Yes! He's shut up,' she silently cheered and leaned back against the seat cushions with a sigh. Sadly, magic could only work for so long when it came to Swindle.

"Sorry about that," the 'Con apologized. "Sometimes it's hard to devote my attention to a conversation in such congested traffic. Now, as I was saying…"

Cass couldn't take it anymore! She had been rousted awake at an ungodly hour, endured a high speed car chase at mach three, almost got killed by the psycho-Bot, and all of it without one drop of coffee. So she did what any other caffeine deprived individual would do. Flopping over on the bench seat, she buried her face in the upholstery, and screamed her head off.

Every length of nylon, both visible and hidden, cringed at the abrupt sonic abuse. For a long moment, silence reigned as Swindle recalibrated his systems and wondered, _What in Primus' creation was that? And more importantly, what am I going to do to stop her from vocalizing like that again? _

All that could be heard was Cassidy's ragged breathing and her rapid heartbeat. There wasn't a single smarmy platitude or useless headache inducing phrase to clutter up what should have been the dreary quietude of an early Sunday morning. In other words, all was finally right with the world! Slowly, the disheveled brunet sat up and wiped her damp forehead, relishing the absence of sound that now surrounded her. Closing her eyes in heartfelt relief, she leaned back in her chair with a muttered, "So much better."

A slight burble of electronics tuning up, coupled with a brief rush of static filled the air. For anyone that had been around Cybertronians long enough, it was the unmistakable sound of a mech clearing his vocal processor. Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Swindle at last cautiously asked, "Why did you do that?" He was mildly on edge after that display of thoroughly rude behavior. _Here I am, having a delightful conversation with her, then she goes and does that_, he indignantly groused. _And if she loses her sanity, she's going to be the Pit to control. It takes days to train a decent lackey, time I don't have!_ With trepidation he studied the human sitting in his back seat, he awaited an answer.

'Hallelujah, he's talking like a normal person,' she praised silently toward the drab gray ceiling. 'Who knows, he just might be trainable after all!' Hoping to encourage the behavior, she chose to at last answer him. "Just a little something I like to call relieving frustration, Hon. Yah should try it some time."

"Hmmm," the Decepticon responded contemplatively as he focused on the dual tasks of out maneuvering early morning church-goers and trying to figure out the mercurial mood-swings of a seventeen year old girl. "Will you be doing that very often?"

Cassidy's eyebrows rose at the almost visible apprehension flavoring his words. It had never actually occurred to her that her voice was that disturbing to him. What a wonderful opportunity! "Oh, all the time," she boasted like an enthusiastic show-time announcer. Testing him a little further, she thoughtfully inquired, "Don't you scream for the pure pleasure of it?" The electronic stuttering she heard in the background told her she was on the right track. Before he could begin another one of his endless speeches about absolutely nothing, she continued. "In fact, I can feel one coming on right now!" Taking a deep breath, fully prepared to break glass, she suddenly got a seatbelt caught in her teeth. "Oomph!"

"As much as I would encourage you to get a hobby," Swindle began. Something wet seeped into the imitation nylon he was muffling her with and he shuddered, before rallying onward. "I'd really appreciate it if you would focus on quieter activities."

Growling, Cassidy fought the belt that was gagging her, yanking and pulling. Twisting wildly, it countered her every move like a mad python. Then more seatbelts leaped into the air to gang up on her. "Erugh!" At last successful, she ripped the buckle away, panting heavily. "Freaking lousy bastard… oomph!" She found herself getting forcibly bowled over by thirty-nine safety harnesses! Coffee deprived, wearing last weeks clothes for a second round, and enduring the most ludicrous kidnapper in history had made her just a tad annoyed. Therefore, this meant war!

Swindle managed to keep driving with the kicking, biting, and cursing for another two blocks before even he had to pull over. There were just some things a mech couldn't multitask through. He winced as a flailing sneaker struck home against one of his floor vents, and cringed at the high sonic shriek that assaulted his unprotected audios during one rare moment of un-gagged freedom. Well, this was one of those difficult tasks he'd been talking about. In fact, the huckster was so distracted, he failed to notice that he had acquired an audience.

Slowing to a stop by the old ice-cream parlor, the bicyclist took out a water bottle. He was fairly typical of his breed: whip thin, muscular, and clothed entirely in spandex. Wiping the sweat out of his eyes, he checked his cell phone for the time, before a certain dull green car with an ugly little stylized Japanese kanji on the back windshield caught his attention. The Mitsubishi was shaking. First it would tilt one direction on it's suspension, then the other. His eyebrows quirked when the car leaped violently into the air, slamming two tires down on the raised sidewalk. 'Weird…' Considering the situation, he debated on giving into his curiosity, or just leaving to finish his workout.

At last, he reluctantly approached. His first glimpse inside the ugly little car had revealed what looked like a girl that was maybe thirteen or fourteen, sitting in the back seat. This wasn't unusual, the fact that she was gnawing on a seatbelt, was. Frowning, he considered the matter. Walking away seemed like a good idea. She was quite possibly mentally ill, perhaps she'd missed a medication. A wince stole over his features when she began kicking the seat in front of her in an angry tantrum, and he quickly amended his conclusion. "Probably took a medication she shouldn't have," he muttered out loud. Yes, it would really be in his best interests if he just turned around and walked away. Yet guilt was a very powerful influence…

_Meanwhile, within Swindle's posh accommodations…_

"Urayggh!" With a final heave that could easily have won the Olympic wrestling competition, Cassidy finally got the worst of the seatbelts off of herself. Now she could concentrate on the belt-buckle trying to ram itself down her throat. "Gah," she yelled, finally prying it out. Violently swinging the twisting snakelike belt, she threw it for all she was worth at the nearest window before glaring at the radio that was innocently twinkling away in front of her. Every single one of her dental fillings had protested Swindles tongue depressor method of volume control, making her teeth ache. The taste was nasty, in fact, her entire mouth was left feeling bruised. All of these things didn't prevent her from giving the one responsible a piece of her mind. "If you ever do that to me again…" A sudden sharp tap made her jump and turn around. Stunned, she locked eyes with the first sane human being she'd encountered since this entire farce had started.

Tall and lanky, the man dressed in grass green and sunshine yellow spandex loomed over the tinted window. A bulbous bright yellow helmet further accentuated his narrow build and racing muscles. He shifted slightly, causing a beam of sunshine to invade her eyes as she squinted at the object just beyond him. 'Bright, shiny silver spokes…no nonsense handlebars… a bicyclist?' In the twenty-second century, he was a dying breed, and in a place like Detroit, the chances of finding a fellow bike rider were astronomical. Then she snapped out of her paralysis. Leaping toward the window she yelled at the top of her lungs, "Get me out of here!"

Unfortunately, he took this entirely the wrong way. Stumbling back, he braced himself, as if he was expecting her to leap out of the car to attack him. "No, no," she shouted, unaware of Swindle's state of the art sound-dampeners. "Come on! Don't yah read the news?" Pounding on the glass only made things worse, and the Decepticon couldn't have picked a worse time to pretend to be an ordinary car. That was when a revelation struck her, 'Maybe he's deaf?' Deliberately exaggerating her movements and distress, she attempted to open the door. Then she pulled on the handle of the exit across from her and wagged her head at the futility of it all. Encouraged by the look of growing sympathy on her rescuer's features, she began crawling over the center console to get to the front passenger seat. 'Yes,' she silently enthused. 'He's trying to open the front door! Now all I have to do is…'

Violent tugging made her look back in alarm. Just out of sight, was a belt wrapped securely around her ankle… and it was pulling her back. "Oh, no you don't," the brunet growled at the still silent alien vehicle. Clinging for all she was worth, she dragged and clawed herself hand over hand until she was gripping the panic bar of the front passenger seat. The mook standing outside looked hesitant, so she channeled an extra bit of pleading into her expression. "Pal, oof! Look, just call the cops!" Since he still looked confused, she removed one hand to try to pantomime talking on the phone, only to grit her teeth. Seven more belts had arrived to join their fellow, looping and twisting up her leg. "Phone-The-Cops," she repeated, enunciating each word succinctly, before scrabbling. Swindle was really putting a lot of effort into it now. She squawked when those nylon menaces climbed even higher over her butt and squeezed. When she looked back up at the window, she didn't have to fake the alarm on her face. "HELP ME!"

Swindle was really kicking himself. He had forgotten the one cardinal rule that should never be broken: No matter where you were, no matter what you were doing, always stay on you're guard. Considering the organic in the flimsy helm and loud synthetic clothes, he contemptuously added, _Especially on the primitive planets._ Just as the fleshling in spandex started to hook it's sweaty fingers under his door handle, the huckster decided he'd had enough. Blacking out his windows, he revved his engine menacingly. The fleshy wisely stumbled hastily back. Borrowing one of his brother's favorite insults he yelled, "Beat it, Meat-sack," before taking off with a squeal of tires. For his part, the bicyclist was already dialing the cops even as he dove for cover.

"Frag-tastic! That's all I need, some rubbernecker nosing around," he groused, releasing the brunet from the grip of his sensor coils. She fell free, only to get lassoed again as he strapped her into the nearest seat. Keeping up the signal blocker for as long as he was able, Swindle sped wildly across town as fast as his little metal hinny could take him. Unfortunately, with his weakened systems, the range of that particular device was only effective within a certain distance. Too soon, it was ineffective, and too soon, he heard the sound of approaching sirens. Shutting down the signal blocker with a huff of recycled air, he silently ticked over all the problems he'd endured. First, he got paralyzed, then he lost the time-piece, and now he was saddled with the most crooked, opportunistic, self serving prisoner the universe had to offer! Switching his glare to the fleshling that continued to make his life difficult, he accused, "This is all your fault!"

Cass blinked at the verbal abuse. With an expression of practiced innocence straight out of the dumb blond playbook she asked, "So it's wrong of me to want freedom? To grasp for every opportunity as if my life depends on it?" All she got in return for her logic were Cybertronian grumbles and a swift turn of the steering wheel. Breaking out of character, she rolled her eyes. "Honey, I've got news for yah. We aren't partners. Occasionally, we might team up against the odd killer robot, but beyond that we're enemies."

"Getting that timepiece is for mutual survival," Swindle protested convincingly. Alright, so in reality it was for his own well being, but she didn't need to know that. Really, he could care less for the fleshling sitting in his back seat. Clearing his vocal processor, he coaxed, "Cassidy… Sweetheart, that time-piece is really special. If I don't get it back in time, a lot of nasty things are going to happen."

"Uh huh," she rolled her eyes. "And how many of those nasty consequences are going to be by your hand?" She was pretty tired, and annoyed about being forced awake at the ungodly hour of five O'four in the morning. Add the caffeine headache and the seatbelt she'd tasted ten minutes ago, and she wasn't feeling all that cooperative. Idly, her gaze drifted across the rest of the bench seat. 'I wonder just how sensitive his upholstery is,' she wondered silently. Flexing her bandaged fingers experimentally, and feeling the ragged edge of her broken nails, she began estimating just how deeply they could dig.

Considering her, the Decepticon sighed. "Tell you what, don't scream anymore and I won't try to gag you. Deal?"

She flicked a level stare toward his radio. "How about not going all infomercial on me first thing in the morning? For that, I won't scream."

"Fine by me," the huckster crowed. He remembered how her brother had exchanged handshakes with her to seal the deal and supposed he ought to do the same, but her squishy style servo was so small… Instead, he offered a seatbelt.

At the first glimpse of bright shiny buckle rearing up next to her face, the brunet recoiled in alarm. Eying the metal implement like it might bite her, she warily asked, "Is it too late to take yah up on the first deal?"

A few wheezing gusts escaped his vents as Swindle withdrew his sensor coil. "Afraid so, Kid. But don't worry, I use my belts responsibly!" Putting actions to words, he strapped her down securely, making sure to place the harness exactly where it would do the least amount of damage in a high speed accident… over her chest. Humming to himself cheerfully, he focused back on the roadway, completely convinced he'd done a proper job of reassuring her that he had her best interests at spark.

Stiff as a board, an alien seatbelt wedged firmly between her breasts, and her face looking like it was carved out of marble, the brunet began chanting a soft mantra: "Don't kill the perverted car, don't kill the perverted car, don't kill…"

"What was that," the Mitsubishi absently inquired, not really listening for an answer. He'd begun contemplating his reluctant sales assistant and the low company morale he could detect. By his way of thinking, a little 'bonus' might be in order, considering the difficult circumstances of such an early morning rush job. Gradually easing out of traffic, he pulled into the nearest drive up lane. _Now, let's see… What sort of fuel would my organic prefer?_

Looking on their new local with unenthusiastic eyes, she sighed and silently groaned, 'Oh, joy, more grease.' Closing her eyes, she began daydreaming about things like carrot sticks, or trail mix. Even a three-bean salad caused her mouth to water. Alarmed shouts from disgruntled workers heralded the arrival of a tray of food, and she gazed at the first bribe of the day. As expected, there was a platter of fried goods consisting of: an omelet burger, grit-fries, an orange soda with artificially added vitamin C, and… a triple-decker caffeine rich caramel-white chocolate-cappuccino swirl with whipped cream on top! Cassidy grabbed it up like a starving woman and didn't set it down until it was almost gone. A brain freeze had replaced the caffeine headache, but she didn't care. This was heaven!

The sales-mech cleared his vocalizer after a moment of stunned silence. Swindle honestly hadn't known a fleshy could suck down liquid with the strength of a Vosian vacuum cleaner (only three easy payments of nineteen credits!) It was slightly humbling in an awe inspiring sort of way. "There now, do you feel better? I can tell you're at least a little happier since you're no longer glaring death at my chair cushions." Realizing he hadn't made the yellow light, the Decepticon slowed to a stop with a mutter of alien curses. At last, resigned to idling away and looking for something to do, he focused on the fleshy again.

"Yah might have earned a reprieve," the brunet replied with feigned nonchalance. "Then again, maybe not… I haven't decided yet." Undoing the perverted safety-harness, Cass sat up and attacked the meal laid out in front of her. Since she was an advanced carnivore, though, she chose to do so with finesse. Using the complimentary plastic spork, she scraped the scrambled egg-like substance off of the hamburger bun and onto the paper wrapper it had come in. That done, she tossed the thick slabs of bread aside and began eating.

Traffic had just started to move and Swindle had only barely switched focus, when he felt the two soggy bread slices hit his interior carpeting. Reacting in outraged shock, the Mitsubishi Gallant leaped violently into the air. _She didn't?_ Immediately looking back, he zeroed in on one very messy surprise. He sighed in exasperation, concluding, _She did_. Despite the unexpectedness of it, he had been anticipating such behavior from the very beginning. _This creature is an organic after all, and a primitive one at that. Still, it doesn't make training her any less tedious._

Once she was done with her eggs, she focused on the one remaining food item. 'Grit-fries? Ugh,' Cass reflected, silently grimacing. 'I just know this is hardening up my arteries.' Despite the unhealthful quality of her stolen food, she still settled down to eat it. She'd smirked evilly at the first vehicular reaction but had quickly hidden her expression with cool boredom. When the huff of air had come boiling up from the vehicles vents and ruffling her tangled green streaked hair, she had pretended not to notice. Nor did she react to the discordant electric guitar rising up in unmistakable annoyance. 'Any minute now, he's going to crack. Wait for it…'

"Pick it up," ordered one very disgruntled Mitsubishi.

After a particularly noisy slurp of her soda, she inquired, "Will yah let me go?"

"I don't think I need to dignify that with an answer," the 'Con-mech stated, not in the mood to banter… especially with smears of mustard and mayo so dangerously close to his carpeting. Considering the slowly oozing stream of organic fuel flowing ever nearer, he then flashed a heated glare back toward the fleshling responsible.

"Then yah know mine," Cassidy chirped back with a wicked grin. Taking another noisy pull of her straw, she was rewarded by a flying belt buckle… which she expertly ducked.

"If you don't clean up this mess…," he began.

Snorting out a laugh, she muttered, "That's rich, considering the state of that other dimension of yours..."

"I'm not feeding you any longer," Swindle declared in righteous indignation.

Blinking at his front console, her face adopted an expression of mock horror. "Oh, no! No more greasy junk food? Whatever shall I do? I might actually stay healthy!"

Horns honking from behind reminded the huckster he should be paying attention to the road. This was somewhat difficult under the circumstances. Any minute now, his flooring was going to be stained with a hard to remove yellow plant-like substance. He couldn't gather it with his manipulating coils without risking that same smear all over them as well. Therefore, the fleshling had to do it, but how? Only when he was taking a particularly sharp turn down a one-way street did it come to him, and he internally grinned. "Fine, Cassidy," he announced in a suddenly chipper mood. "Leave it there. I don't mind."

Tensing abruptly at his tone, she cast a suspicious glare at his front consol. "If you're trying out reverse psychology on me, Pal, don't bother. I mastered that in Kindergarten."

"Oh, no! I wouldn't dream of it," he gushed, an honest smile in his voice. "It just occurs to me that there's one thing that's far more critical to you than the threat of starvation."

Already following the sneaky car's line of reasoning, Cassidy's features paled. Involuntarily, her eyes flickered toward the fast food tray, or more specifically, the clear plastic cup standing half finished on top of it. Warily, she began, "Yah wouldn't…?"

"No more coffee," the mech sang back, confirming her worst fears. He was gratified when the little organic gathered up every last wrapper and food item within seconds. "Don't forget the crumbs," he smugly reminded her.

"Stupid caffeine addiction," she muttered, attacking his carpeting with a single-minded intensity that was more than a little frightening. A huff of heated air was his answer and she scowled up at the twinkling radio. "Hey! Don't yah dare laugh, yah lousy, no good piece of…"

"Well, you have to admit, it is a very handy tool," he chuckled. A pause entered his words as a new thought occurred to him. "I wonder… Would you willingly help me find the pocket-watch if I promised you a lifetime's supply of coffee?"

Her glare was positively molten. "No way, Pal! You've hinted more than once that that dinky little watch could hurt a whole bunch of people, so no dice! I may be a hopeless addict, but I'm not a sell out."

Even though it wasn't visible to human eyes, the 'Con-mech pouted. "Oh, well," he gave up, deciding to focus on the positive. "At least it got my interior clean… mostly."

Making no attempt to hide the growl in her voice, she asked, "What do yah mean, 'mostly?"

Hemming and hawing a moment, he speculatively suggested, "Well, a vacuum job wouldn't hurt… and a complete scrub down with some heated water and state of the art cleaning fluid. Maybe even a wax job…" He trailed off, imagining the possibilities.

Looking at him as if he was from Mars, she demanded, "Do I look like Merry Maid to you?"

He considered her small form speculatively, with her ripped and stretched out clothing, her wildly mussed green streaked hair, and the stubborn sulking expression on her little face as she curled into the furthest corner of his alt-mode. "Well… no," he at last agreed. If he had to give a name to her behavior, he'd pick 'Sullen Servant,' or 'Petrified Pet.' She wasn't looking at him, her bottom lip poked out in an unhappy pout at having lost another manipulation. Still keeping a solid grip on the organic trash, she crossed her arms stubbornly. Sighing, he reluctantly agreed with her. "I suppose that's too much to ask for. Keeping a hostage is such hard work."

"Try it from this end and we'll see how yah like it," she mumbled, watching the scenery wiz by. They were heading out to the wilderness again, and as such, she wasn't surprised when he pulled into yet another secluded rest-stop. Driving up close to an overflowing trash can, she watched the window barely crack open, just large enough for her fist. Grumpily, she shoved the trash out and dropped it unerringly down into the nearby pile. Chill Detroit wind just barely caressed her hand before the window again made it's demanding way back up. Mournfully complying with the silent order, she again pulled back inside. Giving the lit radio a hopeful glance she asked, "Can I get out now?" Hopefully, he would let her. Even a stench ridden public restroom was preferable to twenty-four hour surround-sound Swindle. She had to brush the fuzz off of her teeth, and a good sponge bath wouldn't hurt either.

"No, sorry. If you'll note the vehicle to our right, you'll see that there are too many witnesses." A belt waved in an offhand manner at a nearby parked semi-truck; a man was sitting inside sipping a Burger-Bot milkshake. "Besides, I mainly chose this spot to inform you of the next phase in my plan to acquire the time-piece. You'll get to lubricate later."

Blushing once his meaning became clear to her, Cass swiftly looked down. Just as she was about to try manipulating him into letting her leave first (if only to allow her to get over her embarrassment in a more private setting), something odd happened. What sounded like descending thunder shook the ground and easily knocked her to the floor. Crawling to her feet, an insult on her lips, she froze. Standing before them was a giant of epic proportions, one with metallic purple wings and a crazed jack-o-lantern smile. Crouching down close, an evil leer stretched across his broken mouth, the robot reached out with one massive clawed servo.


	24. Chapter 24

Confidence Game

Chapter 24: Meet and Great

By: Mooncrossed

_Hey, guys, I'm back! Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and a terrific New Year! This chapter was very hard for me to write, so I am most definitely giving God the credit! Many thanks to Mikoto-chan for her review (I tried, but Blitzwing refused to jump into the battle until he was sure he only had one opponent. Either he's lazy, or incredibly smart. Probably a mixture of both.) To Queenofthebloodmoon, glad I made you laugh. (And yes, Blitzy is going to have a lot of fun!) And for YachiruBya, glad you like the story! I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, or tang. _

_At a small parking lot on the outskirts of Detroit…_

"Svindle, is zat you? Vat an ugly paint job." Blitzwing's cheery face momentarily frowned in doubt, which was an odd sight to say the least. He had held back just as his other two personalities had told him to, but it had been a trial. First there had been the police reports to go through, which were horribly boring, at least to his more childlike mindset. Never mind that Icy considered it fascinating (_But he's boring too! Ha, ha!_), and Hothead liked it, but only from a Military standpoint. Still, his brothers, as he liked to privately refer to them as, had resoundingly ordered him to not make trouble. So he had disappointedly let them take the lead. He pouted further, a jagged frowning jack-o-lantern of doom, before brightening. Perhaps now that they had found Swindle, he could have fun?

A gruff voice yelled within his multi-faceted helm that this could not possibly be the wimpy sales-mech. Blitzwing winced at the voice only he could hear even as 'Hothead' continued to rant in his usual way. _He doesn't have even a fraction of his glorious death dealing machines_, the second personality declared with his usual lack of tact. _Therefore he could not be the one! I say blast him to the afterlife and find the real one now! _Gleefully, Random felt his weapons activate, only to sag in disappointment as they powered down again.

_Hothead_, his first brother known as 'Icy,' chided. _I have my doubts too, but let us question the robot first. Perhaps he has the redeeming article, yes? If not, then we shall dispatch Svindle as Megatron demands. _Reluctantly, the war oriented side of his body acquiesced, and Icy breathed a sigh of relief. Blitzwing was as all triple-changers were, with three forms, and three personalities all wrapped up in one body, but few understood the reason for this. The task of transforming was a delicate process, often matching forms with the individual. It was also complicated. A four-wheeler couldn't necessarily become a jet any more than he could become a tank. Likewise, a jet couldn't possibly adopt the alt-mode of grounder or tank. Only one mode per personality, only one form per spark. In reality, he quite literally was three sparks within one shell! Icy preferred a jet form, Hothead always chose a tank of some kind, and Random… They shuddered as one. No, it would be a cold orn in the Pit before they would let the world see what their third brother had chosen for his alt-mode. As one, both dominant personalities focused upon the car-former, and more specifically upon their third brother, 'Random,' and winced.

Waggling his servos on either side of his helm, his fingers splayed out like antlers, he shouted into the parked car's darkened windshield, "Boogety-boogety-boogety! Hah, hah! Hello little squishy! Vant to come out to play?" Extending claws menacingly, he giggled, imagining all the mayhem he could cause. _Yes, hee, hee! I can see one of ze door handles moving. Little humans are so much fun to play with…_ Frowning, he felt his brothers clambering for control. _Awww, do I have to? I'm sure Svindle wouldn't mind… Oh, alright, but here's a going avay present!_ He surrendered, but not before letting his head spin around seven-hundred times in fifteen seconds while cackling maniacally.

At the end of the rapid rotation, a blue steel helm swung into place, one with aristocratic features and an uncharacteristic grimace. Icy groaned, putting a servo to his aching head. He hated when Random spun their head like that; it always gave him a raging processor-ache. Nevertheless, there was a mission to perform. Twisting on his knee joints, he located the small Mitsubishi upon the ground nearby. There was a seventy-three percent likelihood that this was the mech, but he decided to scan him just to make certain. The monocle surrounding his right optic zoomed outwards like a periscope as he analyzed the vehicle, all the while fighting back two personalities that had grown bored. _Hmmm, even my most powerful probes barely register his form_, Icy mused in idle curiosity. _Svindle looks as if he is little more than a ghost to my sight maps… a cloaking device perhaps?_

_Ooh, Ooh_, Random hooted for his audios alone. _I vant one! Can ve take it after he's offlined? Ve could scare everyone on base, and do funny sneak attacks …_

_Enough of zis delaying_, Hothead gnashed his dentas in impatience. _Get on vith ze interrogating or…_

"I vill, I vill," the calmest of the three reassured out loud, all the while studying Swindle like a bug under a microscope. Clearing his vocals, he addressed the soon to be condemned mech before him. "Svindle, Lord Megatron grows impatient. Vhere is zat timepiece?" The small Decepticon turned car flexed it's wheels slightly, not talking, but otherwise remaining in place. Icy raised an optic ridge. "It vould be highly beneficial to your personal vell being if you answered ze question, mine friend. Ze alternative…" He extended his talons, giving them an admiring glance, "Vill be messy."

The small gray green vehicle didn't move despite the very real threat to it's well being, and the triple-changer paused. Maybe it wasn't really the Decepticon he sought. It could quite possibly be a simple Human manufactured drone. He had experienced a number of embarrassing faux-pas since arriving upon this primitive planet; it would be terrible if he found out that was the case right now. Crouching down in growing doubt, his sensors active and scanning, he carefully eyed the small ugly car. "Svindle… is zat you? I must agree vith Random, it is a terrible shade of green."

Headlights flared in sudden surprise at the sight of a narrow metal visage, as well as half a dozen weapons, barely seven inches from his unguarded metal frame. "Woah, Blitzwing," Swindle exclaimed in Cybertronian with overwhelming false cheer as he sped back in mild alarm. "You're cute, but you're not that cute. You mind giving me a little space here? Hah, hah! And what's this about a squishy? Everybody knows I can barely stand this breed! Way too disgusting, and the smell? Yuck!" The vehicle gave an odd little tilted hop upon the pavement, landing on two wheels and shuddered before going back to normal. "Ahem, as I was saying…" Abruptly, the entire car jumped violently into the air. "YOUCH!"

In fascinated silence Blitzwing listened to the hidden contest of fleshling versus seatbelts. After a moment he absently commented, "I thought you said you no longer had a human hostage." He jumped at an unexpected bellowing car horn and squinted disapprovingly. _How rude_, Random silently commented to no-one in particular. Hothead's opinion mostly consisted of torture techniques he would love to visit on the small ground-pounder. Icy tilted his helm thoughtfully, taking special note of the suggestions that most appealed to him.

Swindle devoted half a dozen seatbelts toward keeping one squirming, writhing brunet pinned out of the line of sight. Talk about being difficult! Not only were his manipulating coils not very capable of such prolonged activities such as pushing or lifting anything heavier than an organic breakfast tray, the human wasn't making this any easier. A sneaker slammed with unerring force into an exposed wire, causing wiper fluid to spurt uncontrollably over his windshield. Gritting his dentas, he redoubled his efforts, and his manipulating coils to the task.

Windshield wipers twitched slightly in embarrassment. _Slag, is it too much to ask for that fragging femme to hold still_, he silently groused as he did his best to immobilize Cassidy. _If she kicks my horn button again, there'll be the Pit to pay!_ Redirecting most of his attention to the greater threat in front of him and sounding more than a little sheepish, the huckster enquired, "So, just for curiosities sake, you understand… On a scale of one to ten, with one being a slight glare and ten being a killing rage, how fragged off is Megatron?" The triple-changer primed his cannon in response and the huckster internally winced. "That bad, huh? Well, I won't lie. I have it, it's just a little banged up from when those Elite Guard rejects interfered in the sale. All it needs is a little tender loving care, and I'll be happy to present it to the old warlord personally…"

Flaring wildly, the triple-changer's guns fired, instantly freezing a nearby eucalyptus tree. "I vill make a deal vith you, Svindle, since zat's ze only thing you seem to understand," Blitzwing interrupted with chilly superiority, his monocle flexing in and out. "If you truly have ze timepiece, and are only keeping it until you can present it to our leader yourself, zen prove it: Transform." He smiled a thin little smile at the hesitant stuttering filling the snow swirled air. "You claim to not be a liar, and among your litany of excuses you have sworn you do not have an organic within your interior, so transform. But I warn you, mine friend, if I see one smear of red, I vill pulverize you just as painfully." Arming every cannon in his arsenal, chill glee glowing brilliantly from his red optics. "To ze count of Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven…"

_Simultaneously from within Swindle's alt-mode…_

Cassidy had been so busy gawking at the strange Transformer that she almost got tricked again. She hadn't even realized she had climbed into the driver's seat until the bottom had unexpectedly dropped out from under her. With a grace born of full blown panic she'd clung to every available surface in an effort to avoid falling into the bottomless pit she'd privately dubbed 'Swindle Land.' Desperately clawing her way up onto the console in front of her, she just barely avoided the half a dozen seatbelts that rose up to grab her. It was there that she met her attackers bravely with wild swings and scrabbling handholds on anything she could cling to. "Gah! Let go, OW! No I don't want to go in there, youch!" The entire vehicle suddenly tilted sideways, and she clung desperately to the panic bar. To her disbelief, she watched Rover tumble end over end into the portal, croaking all the way.

Ripping out of a solid nylon grip, her heal accidentally struck a certain button on the steering wheel. Wincing and blushing bright red at the resulting electronic horn blast, she cautiously found a new location for her foot. Besides, having both feet planted firmly on the console was so much better. Overhead lights flickered ominously and the empty purplish glow from the portal in the driver's seat glowed with an even brighter lavender light. Hunching her shoulders nervously, her back pressed uncomfortably against the inside of the windshield, she wondered out loud, "Why do I suddenly have a bad feeling about this?" Fifty-six belts abruptly reared up, buckles glinting menacingly. She gulped, "Oh, yeah. That's why!"

Round eyed, feeling her anger drain away to be replaced by mind numbing fear, she watched them drift nearer. The most unnerving thing about it was the total silence. There wasn't the slightest beaming platitude, smarmy insult, or thinly veiled death threat from the alien she was inhabiting. 'And no hissing,' she reflected, cringing away from one slithery length of curious nylon. Call her crazy, but shouldn't a bunch of seatbelts that behaved like angry vipers be making snake-like noises? One belt reared back, it's buckle glinting, and struck toward her left foot. She almost didn't get out of the way in time. Bunching up her legs, eying the obstacle coarse of writhing nylon laid out before her, Cassidy cringed. That's when the car unexpectedly jostled violently nearly knocking her off of her perch. Screaming in alarm, she used this as her cue to jump!

The seatbelts didn't know what hit them. One moment the fleshy was curled up on the dashboard, the next she was crowd surfing for the back seat. Wildly lashing with everything they had, every belt raced to grasp her, but she wasn't making it easy. Clawing and biting, cursing and shrieking, she fought her way past insurmountable odds, and made it! Blinking in stunned amazement, she stared at the twisted mess of writhing safety harnesses she'd left in her wake. She let out a deep breath and smirked. "Hah! Back at yah, yah crazy alien!" Then the brunet froze. Eleven belts slowly rose up around her looking less than pleased.

Squawking, she dove to the floor and clung to every surface she could find. Talk about difficult! They smacked, they tugged, they wrapped her up like a birthday present. Screaming in terror, she dug every broken fingernail she owned into the seat cushions around her which only seemed to make it worse. Wriggling and rattling in an absolute fury, all Cassidy could see was a world of writhing gray! No matter how hard she tried, her legs still got triple wrapped, then quadruple wrapped. More belts grasped her arms and tugged so hard her teeth rattled, only to drop her. 'He's trying to rip me apart,' she realized in wild alarm. She was sure of it! What else could he be trying to do? Several buckles squirmed under her ribs, pushing painfully into her spine. The car shook like an earthquake, and then just stopped… Every belt abruptly zipped out of sight. Her heart hammering, she blinked in confusion.

Clear daylight filtered through normal car windows, birds twittered innocently from outside. She looked left, then right. There wasn't a seatbelt in sight. In fact, if she didn't know any better, she'd swear she was inside a normal car. "Swindle," she began warily, "What are yah playing at?" No answers were forthcoming. Snorting softly to hide her nervousness, the brunet slowly sat up. Was it her imagination, or was someone playing an electric guitar at increasingly terrible decibels. Watching the shadows play upon the seat cushions behind her, she contemplated her next move. This hadn't been the first time the huckster had played opossum, she just wanted to know why. He'd been all set to heave her into his own private playground ten seconds ago. Still, she waited.

Finally, the teenager slowly climbed to her knees. She was fully prepared to resume the fight if he so much as twitched, yet he never did. Sudden surprise flared when those discordant musical instruments abruptly twisted into English. "Oh, Svindle… Come out, come out wherever you are…" Giant metal robot legs stomped past, shaking the ground. Cringing when fire suddenly erupted, she watched as the behemoth launched up into the air only to gouge into the ground right in front of them. "There you are!" The alien's voice abruptly changed, going from playfully maniacal to politely curious. "This is highly unprofessional behavior… Svindle, I vill only say zis once, give Megatron ze pocket vatch… He has already paid you ze credits in full. Do not try his patience or mine any longer or I vill crush you!" Abruptly adopting tones of outrage, he finished with a heavy foot stomp that almost caved in Swindle's hood.

"Swindle," she muttered, sotto voiced wary of attracting the wrong kind of attention. "What are yah playing at?" No answer was forthcoming and she rolled her eyes. For whatever reason, the mech was playing opossum. Abrupt music interrupted, as piercing as it was joyful. In disbelief she looked at the sight dancing in front of her eyes. With gouts of flame, spinning saw-blades, bouncing cartoon-like crimson eyed animals, and sinister sounding calliope music, it was definitely the freakiest carousel she had ever seen in her life. As the horses bobbed and wove, occasionally spitting out fire, or freezing ice, and mad cackling filled the air, Cassidy had only one thought, "I'm never visiting a carnival again." She didn't know it, but she was echoing the same vow Icy, and Hothead had made years earlier. Abruptly spinning wildly, the nightmarish brightly painted horror folded into itself and reverberated until a perfectly ordinary giant robot sat there… looking decidedly embarrassed.

Putting a servo to his helm, the Cybertronian glared at the ground, before abruptly fixating on one dull green Mitsubishi Gallant. With a fierce engine growl that reminded her of jet turbines, he aimed, only to hesitate as he talked to himself. Cassidy craned to see better, edging higher over the seat's edge. This was what Swindle was waiting for. She yelped in alarm as both seatbelts abruptly came to life, wrapping around her wrists and jerking tight. Still more seatbelts emerged from between seat cushions, lashing across her shoulder blades and pinning her in place. Then the portal opened, bathing her face in a hellish purple glow. "Aagh! No! Anything but that!"

_Meanwhile…_

There were moments when Cassidy was almost adorable as squishies went. With her topknot of dark yellow keratin follicles, her equally dark golden eyes, and her sparkling-like features, she was a pet owner's dream. However, at other times… Swindle winced at a particularly piercing scream, followed by a rather vicious kick. Other times he just wanted to kill her! Adding more sensory coils to the fifteen or so currently immobilizing her, he carefully maneuvered the struggling brunet to the correct location, and let gravity take care of the rest. Spitting curse words incoherently, she fell head first into his storage dimension.

_Honestly_, he groused silently to himself. _She behaves as if my subspace were the smelter! I mean, it's not that bad! There's a breathable atmosphere, a good water source, and plenty of organic fuel, what more could a human want? Obviously, the femme's impossible to please! _A quick flick took care of her ridiculously pink military-print cloth bag.

With that, he transformed just as the triple-changer finished his countdown. He met Blitzwing's open cannon with a predatory smile worthy of an entire used car lot's sale's team… and a fully armed torso mounted gatling-gun. "Blitzwing, this has been loads of fun, really. But unless you want a certain well kept secret from making it back to base in the next ten milliseconds, I'd suggest you put away that fancy cannon, hmmm?" The look on Blitzwing's faceplates was priceless. Swindle's smile grew wider. Bargaining was one of his favorite activities, particularly when he had all the blackmail.

_Currently, in Swindle Land…_

An endless landfill of scrap-heaps millions of years in the making, stretched out beneath a spectacular vantage point. It was breathtaking in a filthy sort of way, too bad it was lost on her. Call her a hypocrite, but to her, it just seemed like the alien equivalent to a messy room. And the purple sky would have been pretty if it didn't remind her of a certain giant robot's large greedy peepers. Sighing, she picked at the latest hole she had acquired in her jeans, then glanced down at where she was sitting: upon the abdomen of an unconscious giant robot who was precariously balanced at the pinnacle of the tallest trash-heap. The Transformer wasn't the biggest she'd ever seen… but he was still taller than a human. She couldn't tell in this light, but she thought his paintjob was mostly orange. Yet again, the brunet craned her neck to try to get a glimpse of the mook's face. There weren't any lights, no noises… Reaching down, she knocked upon the warmish metal, and only got an echo.

"I could be sitting on top of a dead body for all I know," she muttered to herself. Her she sat, her brown curls blanketing her back and her knees curled up to her chest, upon a precarious perch. Of course, she'd tried to leave the instant she landed. Considering the fact that the big guy could sit up and start walking around at any minute, she had a reason to get out of the way. Only… she couldn't. First scrambling one way, she was greeted with a dizzying up high view that could make a person have a nosebleed just looking at it. Edging near it's feet had produced an ominous metallic groan, followed by bending knees. Everything began tilting. At first, she had thought he was waking up (and wouldn't that have been a disaster?) It was only after she was clinging for dear life that she realized it wasn't a trick of her imagination, the robot really was about to topple into the abyss and take her with it! Clawing and climbing the other way, up toward his slack jawed metal face improved matters somewhat. Like a teeter-totter, the metal behemoth slowly rose back to a level position. Then it began tilting the other way! No matter which way she turned, the unconcious robot tipped over.

At last she was settled, dead center upon the robot's stomach, bored out of her mind, and as much a prisoner as she had been before. Rover, who'd arrived earlier, wandered around and sniffed random robotic parts of their unlikely host. Since the little green alien house pet was so small and lightweight, he could wander wherever he pleased without bothering anything. Looking up and panting happily, he bounded across a solid expanse of metal ridges to nuzzle up against her side. He was happy Warm Thing had followed him! She was fun. Certain that the Human had deliberately followed after him to keep him company or help him in some way, he gladly bathed her cloth covered side. This proved to the rest of the world (via scent markings) that Warm Thing was part of his pack, and was therefore off limits! Croaking contentedly, he curled and abruptly burrowed into her jeans pocket.

"Hey," the teenager squawked at the dual sensation of slime and unsolicited burrowing, only to freeze at the gravity induced sway of the robot beneath her. Once she was certain that she wasn't about to fall and go splat, she carefully felt her hip. The lump in her pocket croaked again. "You're weird, Rover," she muttered, feeling mildly amused, disgruntled, and embarrassed. At least this explained how he had followed her into the real world. Now, if only she could get him out of there again. Sighing and deciding it would be too much work to pry the little guy out without falling, she looked back up at the view. Far off in the distance she could see more of those crazy giant bats zipping and diving through the air. So far, none of them had flown up this high, yet she wasn't taking chances.

Besides, she had a possible solution. It was a knife… at least, she thought it was a knife. She had found it wedged into a chink in the robot's armor, looking like it had been severed loose. As far as she figured, until she got out of here it was a case of finders keepers. Cassidy glanced at the edged weapon dubiously. The weapon had a central sharp tip, with three ornate blades coming down in a graceful curve toward the hilt, sort of like a fancy Christmas tree ornament. Doubting she would have been able to even pick the thing up due to it's sharp edges, she considered the odd long black plastic handle. Absently fingering the loose wires dangling out of the end, she cast her gaze back over the endless purple skyline before carefully reaching out to her duffle bag. Unzipping one pocket, she slipped it inside.

Abruptly, a movement caught her attention off to the side. Long, black and slithery, it vanished before she could get a good look at it. Swallowing hard, she started to scoot back, only to freeze. The robot had begun to wobble slightly. Another sight of the creature proved that it wasn't a Tiktri Forest Worm, because it had whiskers. She backed up more only to shriek and cling to one massive metal shoulder. Dizzying heights swayed into view as she fought to maintain a foot hold. Slowly now, the pitch black something slithered closer… Now the sleeping giant was beginning to slide. Rolling and tumbling, she helplessly watched her survival-pack, with the only weapon she had, roll right over the edge.

Looking over her shoulder, all that could be seen was an endless black abyss, and the sound of it landing was far too distant for her taste. Really kicking herself, she looked back up in alarm as the creature came nearer. It didn't have any eyes… and it was tipping things ever worse. She was going down! That's when a purple metal servo abruptly ripped through a hole in the air right behind her! Cassidy yelped as she was snatched up out of the air and dragged away. Minutes later, the robot was as it had been before: unconscious, precariously balanced, and lying prone atop the tallest pile of machinery in the valley. Whiskers forlornly outstretched, the shadowy black creature gazed sightlessly after the vanished alien.

_On a remote back alley in Detroit…_

In seconds she was back in the real world, leaving creepy monsters and alien trash-heaps far behind. A welcoming cool breeze caressed her face and rearranged her hair, bringing with it the scent of decaying household trash, rain, and car exhaust. Closing her eyes, she basked in the familiarity of Detroit. Then the giant hand, with metal claws holding the back of her tee-shirt, slowly twisted until she was confronting a set of overly large glaring purple eyes. She winced.

Swindle focused unerringly on the organic dangling from his servo. His sensors informed him that nothing had been disturbed or destroyed within his storage dimension; this meant that he didn't have to kill her. The fact that her little rebellious moment had almost cost him his function at the servos of a mad-mech, though, really got his motor-oil boiling.

Fidgeting, she did her best to avoid making eye contact with a face that encompassed her entire horizon. 'And oh, look,' she nervously observed as she glanced past her dangling sneakers, 'There's the ground waaaay down there…'

"Cassidy, let's make a pact," the Decepticon purred sweetly.

Her head jerked back abruptly at his tone. 'Yep,' she confirmed to herself. 'He's angry.'

"When I tell you to do something," he began softly, as if he was coaxing a baby animal. "Even hint at it," he clarified, raising his optics toward the sky and holding up his other servo with thumb and forefinger barely a foot apart in demonstration. Suddenly, his optics blazed like lit purple gas jets as he bellowed, "YOU DO IT!"

Her hair billowed and she swayed with the force of the verbal shockwave of enraged Cybertronian vocals. 'I think he blew out my eardrums,' the teenager dazedly reflected in the ensuing silence. Then the slow realization occurred to her that that horrible ringing howl dominating the air wasn't damaged hearing, it was half a dozen car alarms going off. She blinked in a firm refusal against the pained tears threatening to surface. 'So despite the fact that I didn't know a screaming contest was going on, he wins hands-down,' she thought to herself, internally wincing.

Now all deceptively soothing purrs and languid violet optics, he inquired, "Is that clear enough for you?"

With her emotions buried so deeply that her face was devoid of emotions, she slowly nodded. Oh, don't get her wrong, her heart was hammering like there was no tomorrow, but she felt oddly numb. 'Maybe that deafening blast of sound did something to me,' she idly considered. Here she was, dangling a couple of stories above the ground, and all she was thinking about was how weird it was that the robot was smiling while she (the human) wasn't. Apparently, Swindle was satisfied with her silent gesture, because he nodded back before abruptly staggering. She winced, even as she reached up to grab some metal knuckles. 'Hey, I always suspected he'd drop me some day. Why not now?' Still, she did her level best to maintain some kind of handhold, only to pause as a loud hiss filled the air.

Twisting around, she stared. His head was gone. Not metaphorically, not even destroyed, just vanished without a trace! A yelp escaped her lips as the robot dropped another shuddering several inches toward the distant concrete. 'Okay,' she mused, gritting her teeth as she desperately reached up for those two claws pinching the back of her tee-shirt. 'That's my cue to leave. Aah!' The next shuddering drop left her stomach far behind. Swindle was also missing his legs. "What in the…," she demanded out loud feeling more than a little panicked. "Put me down!" Now more than nine tenths car, the Decepticon didn't bother to answer, only tossing her inside his newly formed interior with a testy flick.

Metallic claws flickered around electric energy spikes before the hand was yet again a door, with soft gray carpeted panels, clear glass windows, and familiar steel plated handles. Belts lashing out to securely plaster her to the cushions he took off with stomach lurching glee, determined to make it to eighty miles per hour before they reached the roadway. She ignored this because she'd seen Swindle's chaotic driving all fifty-six hours of captivity. Dimly, she recognized that she should probably be worried about how complacent she was becoming about the maniac robot's driving talents. Skidding around a tight curve, the alien car clipped a light-pole without even slowing down. Cassidy didn't even flinch. 'How long was I in his nightmare dimension this time, anyway?' Her eyes flickered toward the clock. 'Thirty-seven minutes? I've been terrified, manhandled, and thrown into that junk heap dimension, had to bargain for my life, stay one step ahead of her abductor's every scheme, not to mention the spectacle I've just witnessed… The seventeen year old slumped, reflecting that Swindle was going to be featuring in her therapy sessions for years to come.

Despite this, there was still a slightly sour taste in the air. His engine was just a touch louder than normal, the heater was on… She sighed, reflecting that even though she was the injured party, she'd probably have to apologize. What a world! Okay, she wasn't going to say she was sorry. That went against the grain on so many levels. Reminding herself that he could kill her at any time, she decided that it was time to placate him. Swallowing, she prepared herself, before beginning by shaking her head slowly. In bemused tones she commented, "And I thought my room was messy, even post visit from a certain giant robot." Her fake smile became a little more genuine at the sudden extra loud grumble of an alien engine before her face smoothed out into one of bland disinterest. "Still," she continued. "At least now I know what happened to Jimmy Hoffa and Amelia Earhart."

"Please," he exclaimed out loud, unable to keep his vocals silent any longer. "I have much better things to do with my time then kidnap a two-bit gangster and a primitive Human flyer!" He found himself having to look up many of her references on the Internet. It was useful, yet aggravating.

"You've got a two-bit gangster sitting in your front seat, in case yah haven't noticed," the brunet mocked back primly. 'It's good to poke him out of his shell,' Cass reflected grimly. As she had discovered through trial and error, a silent Swindle was extremely dangerous. "Why, I was lucky to make it out of there alive," she continued melodramatically casting a hand over her eyes. "Who knows how long it would have taken for yah to rescue me?"

"At your rate of destruction, Sweetheart? One hour, tops," Swindle shot back. Humor was creeping into his vocals, despite his best effort to remain peeved. 'Oh, well,' the mech at last sighed to himself. 'Couldn't ever keep a grudge despite my best efforts, not when a profit could be in the offing.' They lapsed into another state of quietude that was relaxed instead of angry, and Swindle released the last of the tension. He was in the midst of devising the finer points of his third back up plan if this latest ruse didn't work, when his train of thought was interrupted.

"Why do you guys have teeth?" Gazing fixedly off into the distance, she didn't even appear to expect an answer, not that that ever stopped her travel companion. An abrupt swerve briefly put them within range of getting creamed by a cube-van. Horns blared loudly from all directions despite the fact that the Mitsubishi was already arriving safely back on the proper side of the road. As Cassidy calmly resumed her old seat, she wondered, 'Should I be worried about the fact that his driving doesn't scare me anymore?'

Once Swindle had successfully avoided the pothole he was attempting to steer around, he was able to devote his attention to the fleshling in his interior. "What? Where did that question come from?"

"Well, it's just…" Blushing, she abruptly realized that she must have been speaking out loud, and scrambled for a good explanation. "Look, yah have teeth, all the other robots I've seen in the news have them, and I'm wondering why? Yah don't eat anything! All I've ever seen you guys do is guzzle down oil, so what's the point?" Silence met her little speech and the brunet squirmed in spite of herself. Her mind had been drifting, as it normally did when she was bored, and she'd gotten to thinking about all the different aliens that had made the news. She honestly didn't care about his kind, really she didn't…

Considering his options, Swindle absently focused on driving. He could always tell an artistic lie, just for the fun of it. Something along the lines of having them purely for decoration, or to appeal to various alien species. As he ticked over each possibility, though, one thing was becoming more than obvious. This femme was annoyingly talented at sniffing out even the slightest half-truth. Normally, he wouldn't care, but he needed her at least marginally trusting him to pull the final stage of the heist off. _It doesn't mean I can't play with her a little_, though, he grinned to himself. Gusting out a heavy sigh, he at last answered, "They're called dentas… and we do use them, alright."

Eyes growing wide as the information sank in, Cass waited impatiently for the rest of the explanation. When he didn't elaborate, she prompted, "Well? Come on, don't leave me hanging! What do yah eat? Rocks?"

A Cybertronian snicker wheezed out of open car vents. "No, Kid, we don't eat rocks. Way too bland for my taste, though it might explain Starscream's frequent crash landings."

"Like I know whoever that is," the teenager mumbled, smiling despite herself. A new thought made her cringe, though. "You guys don't eat… animals, do yah?"

The car performed a full body shudder. "Eyuck! And they call me depraved! No, we don't eat organics! Pardon me while I purge my tank!"

"Oh, good," she answered, slumping in relief. Silently, she puzzled over it some more. Casting a pleading look at the twinkling radio in front of her, she attempted to tug at a pair of robotic heartstrings. "Come on… yah have to throw me a bone here. Just one hint?"

Mentally rolling his optics at her amateurish sad-eyes routine, switched on his radio. While scanning the airwaves for something interesting to listen to, he discovered something. There just wasn't much available. Even the commercials were sub-par. _Of course it just has to be two minutes before the next hour change_, he sighed. _Stupid organic entertainment laws._

"Fine, be that way!" She scowled as she crossed her arms. "They're probably just for intimidating people, anyway."

Letting her fleshy processor click on fruitlessly for a minute and a half, he finally offered up one clue. "The food I'm talking about is hard."

She raised her eyebrows, before hazarding another guess. "Well, we ruled out concrete…" Attempting to consider things from his standpoint, she correctly concluded that what she considered hard wouldn't make the grade by his standards. So what would be considered 'hard' to a giant alien? "What about precious stones? Like rubies and diamonds?"

"Nope," Swindle announced, playing the sound of a negative buzzer he'd heard on a game-show once. "Rocks are rocks. Try again." As she puzzled over it some more, the Decepticon finally found a decent tune on the Jazz channel. "Think of something else that's precious," he prompted, nudging her elbow with a nearby armrest.

"Well, that only leaves…" She trailed off and stared at his console in surprise. "Metal? You guys eat metal?" At his hummed confirmation, she could only shake her head in disbelief. Cass pictured gold coins, bronze statues, railroad rails, and a plethora of other objects disappearing down Swindle's throat, and tried to estimate how much it would take before he was full. Then she multiplied it by how many alien robots were on Earth and cringed. There went the neighborhood.

"We don't need to eat all the time, not like you fleshies do," he reassured, guessing where her thoughts were headed. "Still, got to build strong armor and all that. It's not like battle damage grows back by magic. There's also solid energon. Though, with the war going on again production will probably stop. The liquid kind stores better." He drifted off for a moment, remembering energon treats with a special fondness. Then he shook himself. _Oh, well_, he decided cheerfully. _No use crying over spilled oil_. _This war is making me a rich mech, which is a good compensation by far. _

"So, that glowing pink stuff," she began.

"Energon," he corrected.

Waving off proper grammar like she always did, she asked, "Is that your version of tang?"

Laughing so hard that his engine almost stalled out when his search engine provided the definition for the odd word, the huckster exclaimed, "Sure, Kid, it's tang! Wouldn't recommend you try it, though. The acid content would burn you alive!" Still chuckling to himself over organics and their odd little ways, he turned up the sound and went back to plotting. It had occurred to him that there was a slight amount of fine tuning left to do in his exit strategy. After all, the last thing he wanted was to be captured again.

Sensing show and tell was over, the brunet leaned back and drifted off as well. As she considered a dreary world of perpetual rain and slick pavement through alien windows, with melodic lyrics drifting through the air more than a century old, she reflected, 'Who knew that the mook was a Blues fan?'


	25. Chapter 25

Confidence Game

Chapter 25: Risky Venture

By: Mooncrossed

_Hi, everyone! Hope you had an enjoyable week. A big thank you goes out to Queenofthebloodmoon for her review (ah, yes, Swindle Land. Hopefully, Cass won't be re-visiting that vacation spot anytime soon.), and to writergurl616, (Wow! Talk about insightful! Now I'm blushing. Well, I won't give anything away, so you'll just have to wait and see.) I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, or Disneyland. _

_On a random street in Detroit…_

Cassidy was currently experiencing a problem. Things had started out innocently enough when she had asked for her survival pack, using the pretense that her hair needed to be brushed. Really, what she wanted to do was see what kind of state the duffle-bag was in after that drop it had experienced off of the worlds tallest trash-heap. When she saw it again, though, it was surprisingly okay. Oh, sure, there were a few rips here and there, and one massive hole out of the side that had some evidence of teeth marks, but most of the pockets were still intact. Opening up the center pouch, she began rummaging only to jump in surprise when her hand landed on something sharp. Had she just gotten bit? Rover, (it had taken her a whole twenty minutes to pry the little alien out of her hip pocket) tumbled closer and peered inside as well. Taking off one sneaker and holding it up high, ready to clobber whatever she found, Cass poked experimentally only to see a flash of silver. 'Wait a minute,' she realized with a start. 'I've brought that alien knife back with me? Now that's something I can use!'

"What are you two doing?" Swindle paused in changing radio stations to give the femme a look at her started jump. Slightly more amused by her obvious guilty expression, he continued, "Okay, now I'm really curious. Did a Tiktri Forest Worm decide to hibernate in your primitive little cloth bag?"

"Huh? Oh, um…Nah. I think one of those giant bat creatures might have dug into my stuff, that's all," Cassidy fibbed, adopting an expression of disgust. Noticing a seatbelt edging toward the opening, the teenager snatched her duffle-bag away. "But it didn't do anything really nasty, so if you don't mind, I have stuff I need to do!"

"Uh, huh," he dryly replied, not having bought a word. "I know a set-up when I see it. Why don't you just let me take a look?" The resulting struggle took place on State Street and swerved across three lanes of traffic, filled with exclamations and insults on both sides. What resulted was most of the squishies self proclaimed 'survival pack' getting strewn around the car, and nearly seven fatal accidents. At last the Decepticon huffed, fed up with the entire ordeal, and ordered her to clean up the mess.

Making a show of grumbling about pushy robots, Cassidy did as ordered, though inside she was gleeful. It had taken some work, but she had successfully hidden the alien knife! She made sure to pile as much clothing, on top of it as possible before beginning to gather the other things. 'Let's see… three tubes of lip-balm, check; one tube of skin softener, check… Lipstick, yep, one tube right here.' By craning underneath the front passenger seat, she was able to retrieve that one. There was also a workout towel smelling strongly of mildew. Wrinkling her nose, she draped it over the top of the pile to dry. ' Now, is anything missing?' That's when she noticed that all important hairbrush, tucked underneath the brake peddle of the car. Not thinking anything of it, she reached down to pick it up only to experience her second problem of the day. Her head was suddenly locked in place! Carefully reaching up and feeling around revealed that a lock of her hair had gotten caught on the turn signal lever. "Ow…"

Swindle knew she was doing something down there, but he was so honestly sick with her antics that he'd decided to ignore it. That was, until he'd begun to turn the corner. What felt like thousands of monofilament wires abruptly cut into his gears with painful suddenness. "Ye-youch!" Swerving wildly, he almost put a pedestrian in an early grave. Though, he discovered, turning that direction hurt worse, so he spun the other way accidentally taking out a mailbox. Now the horrible cutting sensation was in his steering wheel joints! He couldn't turn! Cutting off power to his external controls, he skidded to a stop halfway on the curb, his fuel pump going a mile a minute. Then he focused his visual sensors on his interior only to get an up close view of what looked like thousands of strands of blackened gold wire. "What in the known universe…?"

Slowly in the midst of attempting to save one horribly mangled lock of curly brown hair, Cassidy jerked at the sudden static electric jolt of fifteen sensory scans at once. "Youch! Would yah quit doing that? Stupid car!" With tears stinging her eyes, she glared toward the radio that was just out of her visual range.

Stunned speechless, Swindle couldn't begin to reply. He was too busy looking at a sight map of his steering column and surrounding controls, and the thousands of organic keratin follicles twisted, twined, and knotted into their joints. "How….?" Then he shook himself from bumper to bumper. "You know what? Never mind! The odds of something like this happening by accident are one in three-trillion! Therefore, you did it on purpose!" Fuming, he set to work examining the affected circuit boards, issuing some potent Cybertronian curses while he was at it.

"It did happen by accident, yah crazy robot," Cassidy groused back. With painstaking slowness, she unwounded a section of her mane. After three rotations, and some careful detangling, one huge knot came free. 'At least I have my hairbrush handy,' she mused, biting her lip in agony. 'I mean, the right tool for the job, is at my fingertips and…' She paused in her thoughts as a smell reached her nose, one of burning hair. "Swindle! Something's on fire!"

"I already took care of it, you little nuisance," the huckster groused as he shut down his internal coolant spray nozzle. Her hair, or the section that was left of it within his steering mechanisms, was now a charred and coated mixture of fire retardant and cooling plastic. She had actually managed to cause some damage to him with this little stunt. Scowling at this ugly mess, Swindle considered it from a clinical standpoint before deciding to take things to a more proactive level. Accessing his programming, he set to work on doing a brief re-write on one very specific section of his transformation sequence.

"Aack," Cass screeched out loud as the steering wheel abruptly jerked. "Stop moving, yah bastard! You're making it worse!" She was certain she almost had the worst of this rat's nest loose. If only the freaking car would hold still! Wincing, she endured the sensation of another half dozen strands coming out by the roots. "Of all the things to happen to me," she continued to complain, "This has to be the most horrible, nastiest… Aaah!" There was a purple tentacle inches away from her face! Bug eyed, she stared as it drift toward her hair, before she tried to valiantly bat it away. Pausing, a new realization came to her, 'That almost felt like…metal?'

Wide eyed, she stared at the odd featureless, eel-like creature hovering in front of her. To her consternation, a seatbelt drifted down into view. It bowed and wove for a moment with the long metal alien snake before it reared up next to her face with an almost curious air. Her mouth dropped open as metal parts flipped and twisted, bent and unfolded, until what hovered there wasn't a seatbelt, it was another purple metallic tentacle! 'Those things have been touching me? Gross!'

More were arriving, changing form as they went, and they all had one focus: her hair. They poked, they prodded. Some of them split down the middle to reveal an array of machine implements including an electric drill, a grinding belt, and a spinning saw blade. To Cassidy's relief, they all seemed to decide those weren't good options in this situation. "O-okay guys," she placated as best she could, a nervous smile flashing across her face. "I appreciate the help, but really, I can handle it." Suddenly, every stray belt and bendable length of metal triple wrapped her arms. Shouting in alarm, she watched as two of the remaining robotic serpents abruptly twined together into one big tentacle about the same thickness as an adult boa-constrictor. Then the tip delicately wrapped around a lock of hair and performed an experimental tug. "Woah! Wait a minute! Bad idea! That's a very bad…"

The resulting scream was worthy of countless horror films. It also freed his systems of one very annoying problem. In the process of using a specialized nanite program to clean the worst of the organic residue from his internals, Swindle paused to consider the fleshling in his back seat. Cassidy sat, a scowl marring her features and a bald patch on her head. What remained of her blackened yellow keratin follicles drifted down around her face in an uneven fringe. She was also blessedly silent.

Venting a sigh over her ludicrous defiance, he absently commented, "I don't see what you're so upset about. If you didn't wish to lose any of your head-growth, then you shouldn't have used it in your latest scheme." Rolling her eyes, the Human said nothing. "Alright, that's it," Swindle declared as he abruptly applied his brakes. "You hate working with me that much? Just take off! I'll probably get the job done a lot faster without you slowing me down!" Flinging his door open wide, he waited… and waited some more…

Sitting frozen in place, Cassidy stared at the proffered exit like it was an elaborate illusion. When it didn't slam shut, or turn into a clawed hand, or do much of anything really, the brunet cleared her throat. Aiming a look that was filled with more than a little distrust, she questioned, "You're serious? After everything that's happened, you'll let me go just like that?" She jumped when her seatbelt unbuckled itself and slid out of sight.

"Just like that," the Decepticon agreed. "There's your precious freedom!" The silent addition to that sentence rang loud and clear to both of them: _And I hope you choke on it you ungrateful brat!_ Swindle, despite being in his car-form, was pouting. He didn't think he was that hard to live with… but then again, he did tend to work alone. It was just so much fun to have a dim-witted sales-assistant to banter with, especially during the dull moments. In other words, on a slightly deeper level of his oh-so-shallow spark, he was going to miss her.

Not moving, the seventeen year old gave the car's radio a suspicious look. Asking a question that was more of an accusation, she said, "You're going to kill me, aren't yah?"

"Who, me? Never!" The organic raised one prim eyebrow disbelievingly, so he sheepishly amended, "Well… maybe I've been tempted once or twice. Your wakeup calls leave a lot to be desired, kid… and your dining habits could use a little work… and I still haven't told you about the re-imbursement plan I'm setting up for all the merchandise you destroyed…" He trailed off, considering that particular idea. He'd come up with it back on Fifth Street, but it still needed a little fine tuning, like the fact that this alien species had such short life-spans. _Perhaps if it was generational_, he mused speculatively, _and if I dropped by once a century or so to pick up the payments… _Noticing her less than amused expression, he quickly got back on track. "But the point is, I have no desire to offline you right now!"

Sarcasm flavoring every word, Cassidy snarked, "Well kudos to you for being honest." Outwardly, she was a picture of confidence, while on the inside, she was a quivering wreck. She didn't like the odds being presented to her in this little game. Slowly shaking her head, she gazed out the open door. "I know exactly what you're planning, you'll run me down the instant I step outside."

"Ew," Swindle exclaimed in disgust. "And get red goo smeared all over my frame? Hate to break it to you, kid, but my force-field's still down and I hate marring my body-armor."

Continuing to not trust him one iota, she changed her prediction, "Then you're planning on shooting me."

"Tempting as that is… No," the 'Con countered. If a car could roll it's eyes, he'd be doing it right then. "Something like that would waste too much energy, even if it did have the benefit of disintegrating your scrawny little carbon based body."

"Or you're gonna transform into a robot and squeeze me to death," she accused next. "I know you've thought about it, so don't try to deny it!"

His sigh ruffled the femmes ragged mane of green streaked hair. "While I've come close to attempting it, the answer's still no. Any other suggestions for your game of 'offline-the-fleshy?' And before you suggest it, no, I'm not going to spank you to death!"

Defensively, she protested, "I know yah didn't mean to say that the first time I heard yah. Can yah blame me for being nervous about your suddenly benevolent behavior? For all I know, you're going to transform while I'm still in here, or strangle me with a belt, or something else horrible."

"Well, aren't you morbid?" Despite himself, Swindle was feeling slightly amused. She really had put a lot of thought into this, all signs that she considered him a genuine threat. _Here I was thinking that I'd failed at intimidating her_, he thought ironically. _I guess all that screeching and bouncing around wasn't entirely due to glitches, after all. _

"Giant sized stomping, then," she queried, raising her eyebrows at his radio.

"And I already promised I wouldn't do that," he protested, wheezing out a laugh. "Primus, the lack of trust these days…"

"Nothing says yah aren't planning on asking one of your buddies to do the deed for yah," she declared.

"Assassins aren't cheap, Sweetheart," he grinned. "Even low level thugs demand a hefty amount, and you aren't worth that kind of cash. So you see, I'm not going to offline you." Using his nearest sensor coils as graciously as a wealthy tower-mech, he escorted the femme toward the open door only to meet resistance. "Oh, come on! I've already agreed not to end you're pathetically short organic life! What more could you want?" Her next question was as puzzling as it was suspicious.

"If I leave, what will happen to the pocket-watch?" Cassidy tensed at the barely audible buzz of electrical systems. His reply, when it came, was far from reassuring.

"Sell it, of course," Swindle drawled as if he was rolling his optics.

"To what's his name? Mega-something?" She blinked distractedly, her thoughts going a million different directions at once. On one hand, freedom loomed with all the welcoming appeal of a free trip to Disneyland. The only worry she had was the possibility of Swindle slaughtering her the instant she exited. Admittedly, it was a very real concern… Shaking herself, she focused on other matters, like the pocket-watch. That mysterious little trinket had been the focal point of a lot of problems in her life. If the huckster wanted it this badly, it had to be pretty powerful, and if this other guy was willing to send one of his giant sized lackeys to finish him off? Swallowing hard, she inquired, "What will he do with it, once he has it?"

"None of my business to know, kid," the Decepticon snapped back. He hated that line of thinking. As far as he was concerned, he didn't have to know, and really, he didn't care. So what if an alien race was conquered and enslaved? Who cared if an entire planetary system was sucked into an artificial black hole? All he wanted was the credits. Jogging his seat forward, he hinted, "Don't you have someplace to go? I mean, hah, hah, it's not like you suddenly want to stay." Her return glare was as stubborn as it was defiant. It was also all too easy to read. "You WANT to stay?"

"So what if I do?" This was stated with her hands on her hips and an attitude that was nine-tenths bravado. Inside, she was a nervous wreck. 'Am I insane? How in the world can I hope to prevent a bunch of giant, gun toting alien robots from doing whatever they want? I'll sooner end up as a smear on the sidewalk!' Then she slumped. 'And yet… if I can somehow twist the situation? Keep these guys from getting their greedy claws all over it?' Hating the direction her thoughts were going, Cass scowled. She was no hero, and cursed the stupid Mitsubishi for putting her in this position to begin with!

"Unbelievable," Swindle exclaimed after taking a quick scan. "You're serious?" The huckster studied her with intense suspicion. He thought he had her completely figured out, had gotten so thoroughly sick of her complaining, sabotage and nearly constant escape attempts that he had finally just given in. _She wants out? Fine_, he silently declared. _Good riddance, don't let the driver's side door hit you on the way out!_ Yet now, here he sat, with the nearest door flung wide open, and that same fleshling refused to budge. _Are all humans this fragging contrary? Well, I'm not standing for it_, he mused obstinately. Venting heated air, he stated two succinct words, "Get. Out."

"Nope," she tossed back, lounging back against the seat cushions like she owned them. The air became even hotter, yet Cassidy waited. Chair springs tensed to granite like properties, and she narrowed her eyes. Light slowly fled behind heavily tinted windows and radio lights became steadily brighter. She held her breath, anticipating the worst. So when fifty-six seatbelts exploded out of the upholstery all around her to escort her to the exit, there was no surprise. By now she was an old pro at such tactics and reacted accordingly… with all ten fingernails.

"YOW! Fragging femme! Pit spawned, offspring of a turbo-rat…" Thankfully, the rest of the Decepticon's curses descended into a gibberish of alien languages as he tackled the impossible task of removing one incredibly stubborn organic from his slowly shredding upholstery. The yipping Grrbreazzzzrg wasn't helping matters. Apparently, Rover thought it was a fun new game to play, one involving ripping up the seat cushions and hopping around joyfully. "Argh! Let go!"

Clinging for dear life to the bench seat, Cassidy did her best to peer at the lit front console with one eye. The other one currently had a seatbelt blocking it. "Grrr, you first, yah maniac!" One of the belts on her upper torso moved and she shrieked in outrage before slamming a sneaker as hard as she could into the nearest floor vent.

Leaping into the air at the resulting pain, Swindle yowled his discomfort. With wiper fluid streaming freely over his windshield, he valiantly battled on. Flinging open every door he owned, he did his level best to escort the femme for an exit, any exit! At last, with stuffing flying through the air due to his own merchandise… (Flicking a glare toward Rover, he muttered "Traitor.") And one incredibly annoying Human, Swindle admitted defeat. Withdrawing his sensor coils and sagging on his suspension, he muttered, "Alright, you win. You can stay."

"Really?" Cassidy raised one eyebrow suspiciously. Considering the four open doors surrounding her, she eyed his dashboard. "You're not just saying that?" A deep overly exaggerated sigh of defeat ruffled her ragged curly hair.

"Yeah," he replied, sounding for all the world like a martyr. "There's just one thing I've always wondered about you…" The drifting wail of approaching police sirens began to slowly punctuate the background, courtesy his state of the art sound-system. He was gratified when he felt his opponent tense noticeably where she sat. "I thought you were behaving strangely when this noise started up… Care to offer an explanation?"

"You're a warped bastard," Cassidy rasped. "And, to answer you're question… screw you." By now, the siren's wail was deafening, carrying across several blocks. Sweat began dribbling down her ashen face as she fought the urge to curl up on the floorboards in petrified terror. He could easily have his way if she did that. Just simply tip his chassis and out she'd tumble. The other obvious response was to just take off running. Hands curling stiffly, she clutched the chair cushions around her. "There's no way I'm leaving now," she declared at the top of her lungs. Abruptly, the sound cut out, filling the car with heart-hammering stillness.

Feeling the beginning ache of an impending processor crash, he attempted to clarify matters. "Why?"

"Why not?" Shivering, Cass turned her gaze to the street just beyond the door. If she simply stepped out, she could feign ignorance. Just walk away and get out of this crazy caper before it could get her killed. Though, chances were, it would only be temporary. The brunet knew, she could feel it in her gut. Let the robots continue to play their lunatic games and she just might be out one home planet. In the second craziest gamble of her career, she focused on a new goal, the first selfless act of her life: convince one alien bastard of a robot to let her stay. "I mean," she stated, trying to muster up a little job interview enthusiasm. "Now that I'm technically not a prisoner, I can see a lot of appeal in working for yah."

"Do tell," Swindle drawled skeptically. He casually studied her fleshling form from head to toe, now more than a little suspicious. "Such as?"

Hesitating for a moment, the seventeen year old landed on inspiration. "You make life more interesting! I haven't had this much death defying fun before in my life. What are the chances that I'll find another guy that attracts this much trouble? It's a thrill a minute!"

"Considering what a boring little planetoid you live on, it's understandable," the Decepticon dryly agreed as he continued to search through his internal programs. Even though he hated utilizing a faulty product, certain circumstances dictated their use. Systems such as his ejection seats, for example. One false answer, and she was getting launched. "And this wouldn't have anything to do with personal gain, then? Like stealing the timepiece for your own use?"

Slumping, the brunet groaned in frustration. "How many times do I have to tell yah? Even if the thing magically spits out diamonds, I still couldn't use it! All anybody sees when they look at me is a kid that shouldn't be alone, traveling, or doing anything worthwhile! I wouldn't be able to spend anything without my parents permission, anyway!"

"Hmm… So the only reason you have is the draw of adventure?" He considered the matter speculatively, before abruptly adopting a ruthless business-like tone. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't buy it. There's got to be another reason behind this sudden interest in my charming company."

She blinked, all the energy going out of her in one whoosh. Alright, so he wanted to play hardball? The brunet could recall some careful instructions given to her by her grandfather: 'In the art of lying, partial truths are always the best. They're easier to remember, and much more believable.' "Look, it's just that… I want to know how this thing ends, okay?" Cass paused, and gave the radio a pleading look. "You guys are dealing in super-weapons, and frankly, it freaks me out. I'd just like to have a heads-up in case this entire situation goes nuclear. Just so I can be prepared for the future… if there's even going to be one. Is that too much to ask?"

"Enlightened self-interest?" There was a long pause while the Decepticon considered the fleshling's odd request. Abruptly, he powered down his ejection seat, slammed all four doors closed and put his engine in gear. In seconds, they were out of the alleyway and speeding down the road at well over forty miles an hour. "Alright, kid. You're hired. And since you don't care about being paid," the sneer in his voice displayed eloquently what he thought of that, "I'll just keep your salary for myself. Besides, it'll be a good down-payment toward reimbursing me for all the merchandise you destroyed earlier."

"Like yah weren't planning on keeping it all for yourself, to begin with," the teenager drawled while rolling her eyes. Twisting around, Cassidy set to work exploring some of the smaller side pockets in her duffle-bag. Some of it was pretty messed up. Holding up a deodorant stick that looked like it had been gnawed on by some kind of animal, she made a face, before setting it aside. Then she delved deeper. 'Hmmm, cotton balls covered in pink slime… a set of house keys that look like they've been through the grinder… What's this?' Raising one eyebrow, it took a moment for her to identify the mangled object dangling from her finger-tips. 'Oh, yeah. That crazy Robin Hood wannabe's wallet…' She jumped when a belt unexpectedly strapped her into her seat.

"That reminds me, sweetheart," Swindle began warningly. "Since you're now officially my employee, there are a few ground rules we need to set out. Like this attitude… I don't like it. It just doesn't generate that professional setting I'm striving for. Understand what I mean here, kid?"

"Sure. I'll just treat yah as if yah were my regular boss. That's easy enough," the brunet absently replied, not really bothering to maintain eye contact. There was something odd about the wallet. Now that it was almost completely ripped apart, she was noticing that it had several extra layers to it that shouldn't be there. 'A hidden pocket?' Curious, she began carefully peeling it apart.

"No," the business-mech chuckled. "I'd prefer that you didn't deliberately break the rules and treat me like a simpleton to get your own way. The sad-eyes routine doesn't work on me, kid. Though it's hilarious when you try… Are you even paying attention to me?"

"Hah," Cass triumphantly exclaimed when her fingers located a very interesting object. It was a card with fancy gold lettering displaying some very useful information. "Believe me, pal, I'm all ears. And while we're establishing the rules of the game, I think I should remind yah about how useful I can be. Like the fact that I can get into places undetected that you'd have a much more difficult time with." Brandishing the small V.I.P. invitation, she read off of it like she was a radio announcer. "Such as: the Super-Nova Club. An exclusive venue for dancing, dining, and mild pursuits of villainy!"

"For what reason in all the cosmos would I want to go there, you silly fleshling?" Mentally rolling his optics in amusement, he idly considered the information his search-engine had dutifully looked up, before setting it aside as irrelevant. _Silly organic_, he derisively chuckled to himself, focusing on his own goal once again. _Why-ever would I care about some ink spot on the map? _

"Oh, I don't know," she began speculatively while eying the drab felt ceiling. "Maybe because this particular invitation was in that Robin Hood Wannabe's wallet in a hidden compartment." Dodging a sneaky seatbelt, the card flipped out of sight before he could grab it. She grinned mischievously. "It only allows the most dastardly villains in town to attend," she informed him primly before giving his radio a teasing glance. Fluttering her eyes outrageously, she asked, "Want to be my date?"

Snorting loudly through his vents, Swindle spent a moment giving the information about the night club a more in depth study. According to the advertisements, it was newly opened, extremely expensive, and played host to a number of Detroit's local crime lords, including a certain elusive group of super-villains. In fact, it was due to have a major event tonight. Changing gears, he began heading toward the slowly setting sun. The nightclub was going to open in a few short hours and he had to prepare. "You know," the 'Con commented with a certain level of irony, "I think I just might take you up on that."


	26. Chapter 26

Confidence Game

Chapter 26: The Heist

By: Mooncrossed

_Hey, everybody! Many thanks go out to Mikotochan for her review (Defiant? Well, I wouldn't say that… I believe in Cassidy's estimation, she is always perfectly reasonable. Nice to know she has another fan in her corner), and to writergurl616 (Yep, Cassidy has her moments of bravery, even when she's a terrified wreck of a human being. Glad you're enjoying this.) This story is dedicated to my Dad, who managed to review this despite his busy schedule, my Mom, who knows what it takes to calm me down, and God, who provides all the inspiration. I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, Velcro, Cruella DeVille, or Fitness Guru. _

_In a back alley just after nightfall…_

"We need to get in there," Swindle began speculatively. The building they were parked in front of was huge. Lit up like an airplane hanger, it sported not one, but six signs. A large red, yellow, and purple logo in the neon equivalent of a sun's explosion flashed repeatedly, ending with the crimson words, 'Super Nova.' That was to say nothing of the huge crowd of hopefuls dogging the door in the hopes that they would get inside, all of them dressed in the fanciest eveningwear that money could buy. No-one had time to notice a filthy little Mitsubishi when so much glamour was in the misty air, and that was exactly what Swindle was counting on. "Hmmm…." He considered this small dilemma from fifty-seven angles, discounted all the ones involving a direct approach, and considered his unlikely partner in crime. "Perhaps a 'Femme Fatale' scam…"

"Wait a minute," the brunet sitting in the front seat exclaimed, easily guessing which direction his thoughts were going. Cassidy was craning to see what Swindle most likely could have easily spied on a moonless night, during a blackout, while partially blind. With a distracted frown, she shoved aside one of the wriggly tongue-like belts and squinted. What met her eyes during a brief moment of visibility through the fog wasn't very promising. Fancy top hats met her gaze. A rapid glance in the rearview mirror revealed a green streaked rat's nest of epic proportions that was almost as tall a Marie Antoinette's powdered wig. Smart black tuxedo's and glittery dresses it would cost a small fortune to acquire danced coquettishly along the distant sidewalk. Scowling, she gazed down at her begrimed, cinched under the waist, used-to-be purple 'Fitness Guru' tee-shirt. They had shoes buffed until they could bring down air traffic, Cass had sneakers that belonged in a bio-hazard disposal bag. "That place is high class! They'd sooner laugh in my face than look at me! I…" She broke off, her eyes widening.

Not talking, considering that the merchandise spoke entirely for itself, Swindle waited. The dress he had just released from inventory lounged upon the seat cushions like a lazy black panther. It's full gown fell in swaths of midnight to his interior floor, the sleeves of it draped with provocative decadence on either side. Metal spikes decorated the neckline, bristling and sharp with glittering menace. Any femme would be drooling at the sight of such a find, and the sales-mech congratulated himself on remembering it's presence within his subspace pocket. Smugly, he watched the organic gently reach out and reverently touch the alien gown.

"Where did yah get this?" Wide eyed, Cassidy studied the alien dress taking up the driver's seat. Pressing her thumb into material that felt like fine silk, she watched in fascination as it creased and smoothed out like foam-rubber. It looked as if a Goth-girl had visited Mars, gotten a few styling tips from the natives… then got crowned as their queen. Weird… yet gorgeous. Her mind was already racing through all of the different characters she could play in this, everything from over-the-top villains that would make Cruella DeVille look normal, to tragic style-mavens with a touch of vampirism, or the crazed teenager turned mass murderer in a horror movie! The list grew ever longer with greater and greater appeal in the brunet's fevered brain. She could work with this!

"A little place on Alderbarran Three," the huckster boasted modestly. "Nice folks. Really know how to party." In Swindle's line of work, one had to have good instincts, and all of his were screaming that he was about to make a deal. His sensors never leaving the seventeen year old, he smugly inquired, "Is this 'high class' enough for you, or should I bring out something even fancier?"

Her eyebrows hiking up her forehead, Cassidy eased slowly back. Feigning nonchalance, she commented, "And here I thought you guys never wore clothes." By her estimate, the skirt needed to be hemmed by about two feet, and the sleeves were several inches too long, but it was fairly easily taken care of. She was pretty sure she had a needle and black thread handy… Casting a glance toward her slightly mangled survival pack, specifically one torn up outer-pocket, she chewed her lip. 'Unless, of course, some freaky alien from Swindle's 'Trash Heap of Wonders' already stole it,' she realized with a sigh.

"Oh, please," he derisively snorted at her. "Not all of my clients are my own kind, and the Insectoids have just as much of a right to a free market as anyone else! What sort of business-mech do you take me for?" Swindle paused in his rant as his sensors informed him that Cassidy was again reaching out to caress the garment, and he held his intakes. Shrewd optical sensors considered the femme from every angle as she was yet again drawn to it. Greed was the fastest method of gaining cooperation, and he was proud of himself for finally discovering the appropriate tool: vanity!

As her mind picked up and discarded characters and storylines faster than Swindle could give her credit for, the brunet gently fingered one glittering sleeve. It looked like chain-mail, yet it felt like fine cashmere. A slow smile grew as she found it: the one perfect scam for such a beautifully dangerous and entirely appealing alien dress. With a look that was every bit as sly as the Decepticon's was devious, she purred, "This is going to be fun." Abruptly slinging the outfit over one shoulder, she pulled on the door handle only to encounter resistance. She frowned and pulled again. A too smooth voice at last inquired, "Where do you think you're going?"

"To get changed," Cass drawled, rolling her eyes. Prying up the lock was like trying to lift a full grown elephant with her pinky finger. She did manage to succeed in raising it by about a centimeter only to have the button slam down again, hard. "Yow," she exclaimed, waving her hand. Bestowing a glare upon the alien responsible, she huffed and tried to think of a good method of persuasion.

"I don't see why you can't change here," Swindle chided. "You've done it before…"

"No," she stated with extreme finality.

"Come on, kid," the Decepticon wheedled, oil dripping from every word. "The dress is lovely! You'll fit perfectly in it."

"The answer's still no," Cassidy stubbornly insisted. "Not inside you… and I can't believe I just said that! Ugh, I'm going to have to scrub my brain now." Scowling, the brunet crossed her arms. Rover had curled up and fallen asleep upon her lap. He had long since grown bored with his two companions, and who could blame him? They were arguing… So, what else was new? Snuffling wetly into the seventeen year olds denim clad knee, the amphibious alien continued his nearly full time napping. Aside from shifting at the sensation of congealing snot on her pants, Cass's expression didn't change. Yet again, the dress rested atop the empty driver's side chair like a silky predatory animal. She was all for putting on the otherworldly garment IN PRIVATE!

Swindle didn't agree, thus, there was a stalemate. Equally as stubborn, the Decepticon devoted every conniving trick in his shallow little Decepticon spark toward figuring out the organic's motives. Honestly, the huckster had no idea why she was suddenly so recalcitrant. Cassidy was willing to work for him, she wanted to wear the costume necessary to get into the nightclub… yet, the femme was balking over the silliest of reasons. Attempting to use logic, he wheedled, "What is so wrong with changing inside of a car? Humans do it all the time."

"Nothing's wrong with changing inside a car," Cassidy clarified. "What's wrong is changing inside of a Transformer, specifically you. Why can't yah just drop me off at a restaurant? I'll change in the bathroom and be out in half an hour."

"Hah," Swindle barked out a fake human style laugh. "Like I'd ever see you again. And that dress is worth a lot of credits, kid. More than your life." The sales-mech was becoming testy, and when he got that way, deals tended to be ruined. Counting to a thousand in five point seven-three seconds, he then tried a second tack. With a voice as luxuriant as crushed velvet, he coaxed, "Why? What's so bad about a mech like me?" At the incredulous stare he was favored with, he sheepishly amended, "Beyond the obvious."

"You'll be staring at me the whole time," Cassidy explained cautiously. When he didn't protest her prediction, she sighed and finished the rest of her assessment. "And you're a pervert." Unwilling to look at him, she busied herself with picking lint out of the upholstery.

"What?" Every single light, both inside and out, lit in blinding amazement. "How did you come to that conclusion? And believe me, kid, you aren't my type." This last reassurance was filled with so much honest conviction, she had to have heard it. _I mean, really_, he mused. _The fleshling barely qualifies as an intelligent life-form, and beyond that, she's so disgusting!_

"Sure, right, okay! Like I believe that," the brunet exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips. The look of disbelief and outrage on her face illustrated with perfect clarity all of the discomfort she'd had to put up with from the very beginning. Yawning, Rover climbed onto the slightly less rambunctious seat cushion, curled up, and went back to ignoring them. Cassidy didn't care. She was more concerned with the filthy liar she was working with. "Whenever you strap me in, that seatbelt is right over my cleavage!"

"Which is required by the owners-manual of every make and model of Earth-manufactured drone vehicle I've ever researched," he smoothly countered. "The only other option is against you're throat which could cause neck injuries," Lifting up a sensor coil, he demonstratively caressed the buckle part along her neck. "At the speeds I drive at, it's a distinct possibility." Shrinking away, she scowled at him. "So, come on… You can just put the idea of me being a dirty old mech right out of your processor."

Boldly interrupting, she asked pointedly, "And the tugging?"

Stunned, he questioned, "What?"

"You keep jerking the belt when there's no reason to," the brunet explained. She was slumped against the chair cushions almost as limply as the dress, staring at the radio with an odd sort of defeated triumph. Wearily shaking her head at the Mitsubishi's antics, she continued. "I thought it was weird when you were just a normal car, but now… If you're not a perve, then what's your answer?"

For a long still moment, the Decepticon remained silent. He could feel the organic's fuel pump, her heart, pounding a staccato rhythm against his upholstery. It was slight, but so very much there that it was impossible to ignore. Wherever she was, whatever part of him she had touched, was now smeared with a thin coating of oily residue. That was nothing to say of the alien herself. Even now, she was surrounded by a constant cloud of microscopic dead keratin follicles. They choked the air all around her. _I'm going to have to shell out a serious amount of credits toward getting my interior cleansed once this is all over_, Swindle reflected, grimacing to himself in distaste.

Huffing out a heated sigh, the 'Con reluctantly admitted, "It's weird… having an organic inside me. I am getting used to you, but it's still a shock to my CPU. Sometimes my processor drifts toward other topics only to have you move abruptly…" He paused, attempting to find an analogy her fleshy brain could identify with. "It's like having a bug in you're systems, or a glitch mouse under your armor…" Finally, he settled with, "Suffice it to say, it's not very pleasant."

Blinking in amazement, the brunet gazed upon the alien dashboard as if she'd never seen him before. Well, in a way, she never had. After a moment, she responded. "I thought I was the only one that found this disturbing in the extreme. It's freaky being surrounded on all sides by another living being." Then her eyes narrowed as she remembered that she hadn't had a choice in this little arrangement, and Swindle's excuse was a big heaping pile of greed. Snorting softly, she went back to the original topic. "The fact remains that I'm still not changing clothes inside of yah," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Might I ask why not?" Considering her closely, his processor went in a million different directions. _After all, she just might want to slip away with the Aldabarran gown. It's what I would do in her place… _He flexed his belt buckles testily.

"Because you'll be staring at me," the seventeen year old began. Leveling a cool, no nonsense stare at his radio, she finished, "And I refuse to be a stripper."

Instantly, Swindle's search engine supplied a translation, and pictures! Reeling from the disgusting sight of fleshlings, lots of fleshlings, with too little clothing and not enough visual appeal, Swindle gagged. _Great_, he silently complained. _I'm going to have to clean out my CPU, maybe even my hard-drive! I did not need to see that much of the native species. _Once he had the fragging device turned off and his tanks under a reasonable amount of control, he glowered through his sensors at the organic responsible. "Believe me, sweetheart, I don't want to! I'll shut down my internal sensors first. Now will you please put on the high credit garment?"

His request was more like a demand, and recognizing when Swindle had reached the end of his patience, she agreed. Making a grand production of it, he shut off each and every internal sensor he owned that had to do with sight. This meant that just about every little twinkling light was off, all but one orange courtesy light in the ceiling. Now it just came down to putting the thing on. Eying the Gothic daydream dubiously, she searched for a zipper… or some buttons… Velcro? How did Martian chicks get dressed in the morning, anyway? What she'd assumed was a belt didn't have any ties, buckles, clips, or much of anything. Was this some kind of joke? Flicking a glance up at the darkened radio console, she considered asking for advice, but then she stopped. Asking any male, let alone a giant sales-fiend of a robot for help getting dressed? No way! She wasn't quite convinced about his innocence concerning his seatbelts, despite his most recent protestations, either.

All it came down to, was putting it on. She looked askance upon the impossible to wear garment before bundling it up and climbing to her feet. After all, the bench seat provided more room and visual protection. Thumping and fumbling around, she at last made it to the back. 'Okay, so now, here I am,' Cassidy mused in a state of false cheer, before her smile fell as she gazed upon the gown. 'And there it is…' Heavy and put upon, a sigh gusted from the car vents. The brunet cringed in spite of her self and glanced down. To her surprise, the waistline of the dress appeared to be looser. Had it been this open before? Deciding that she must have imagined the shortcomings of the garment, Cass set to work removing her shirt only to pause. A solution so simple and obvious appeared in her mind, she decided it must be Heaven sent. Who said she had to get naked in the first place?

Thanking God, she gathered up the full skirt and slipped the entire garment on over the top of her regular clothes. With a final tug, her head came through the neck opening. 'Well, that's done,' she silently cheered. 'Now all I have to do is…' That was when the first openly weird event occurred, making her choke. The dress squeezed her. Perhaps not tight enough to hurt, but the fact that she couldn't move was a definite problem!

"Just what are you doing?" Swindle's circuits buzzed in curiosity. He couldn't see her, in fact, he didn't want to. That didn't mean he was deaf. So the weird little noise she had made, put him instantly on alert. It was his property she was clowning around with, frag-it! To his surprise, the organic thumped and rolled across his seat cushions. She at last came to rest behind his passenger seat breathing hard.

Accusingly, the brunet declared, "Hah! I knew you were looking!" Being careful to avoid scrutiny from alien sensors, she used her new crouched over position to try to get better leverage. She'd almost slid one arm free!

"I'm not looking, you silly femme," the Decepticon countered chidingly. If he had optics, he'd be rolling them right now. As it was… He shifted slightly at the odd skittering of organic rubber clad feet upon his carpeting. Something thumped against his door panels and he heard a soft feminine curse. "What I'd like to know would be your reason for rolling around like a demented turbo-fox!"

"Umph," the seventeen year old grunted. "None of your… Uragh, business!" If she twisted just that little bit… and loosened her hand… Triumphantly, she got her arm out of the insidiously tight bodice with a relieved shout. "Yes! I've got it!"

"You've got what? And it is my business when it's my merchandise," the 'Con-mech informed her warningly. Swindle couldn't see what she was doing, but he was really beginning to wish he was able to. Scenario after scenario danced through his processor, each one worse than the last, and it didn't help that she was moving in extremely unorthodox ways! He shifted again at another odd noise, a distressed whimper, followed by an angry growl. This was followed by a heavy thud into his bench seat… and the sound of rending cloth. Wildly jouncing up in alarm on his suspension, he threatened, "Cassidy, if you've hurt that dress…"

"Oof! Not to worry, Swindle," Cass growled, her words muffled by reams of black fabric. She held in her hand a length of cotton cloth with a 'Fitness Guru's' advertisement emblazoned drunkenly across the front. Now it was little better than a cleaning rag. "That was just my tee-shirt biting the dust." Some sort of alien elastic must have finally decided to give way, because the bodice she had been struggling to move around in abruptly stretched. Cassidy took full advantage, stuffing her arms into the metallic sleeves. They fit perfectly, extending over her palms like a second skin. Satisfied, the brunet hiked up the skirt to unfasten her pants only to scowl. The bodice came down over the top button of her jeans… and they were stuck tight! "Is it just me," she groused, "Or did someone design this thing to cut off oxygen?"

Sagging as he was informed of the alien gown's well being (and a brief scan of human vital signs to recognize that she was being truthful), Swindle resumed the undignified roll of being an organic's changing room. _What do I care about a cheap Earth-made garment? Probably deliberately destroyed it, hoping that I'll take pity on her and let her keep the dress_, the Decepticon sneered to himself as he mentally rolled his optics. Glancing around the darkened alley, he did his best to ignore the Human tumbling, squirming, and at one point hopping around within his alt-mode. _Nope, doesn't seem to be anything around at all… Sigh._ That was when he overheard four little words that instantly put him on alert.

"Die you stupid dress," Cass hissed under her breath as she futiley tried for the thousandth time to squirm out of her jeans. Lying on her back, her sneakers high in the air, and her face red with exertion, the brunet fought and tugged at a button that solidly refused to come loose. As if mocking her, the rest of the sparkly black gown draped around her in an endless cloud of material. Then the entire car tilted sideways with an angry engine growl which sent her tumbling. "Aargh!" Abruptly, she found herself doing an impromptu handstand against the door as everything tilted left.

Now carefully balanced upon two wheels, the car rumbled dangerously even as he slowly lowered himself back down to all four tires. "Cassidy, if you damage that garment…"

"Relax, Swindle," she grumbled, rolling with difficulty back to her feet. "Your precious gown, straight from Satan's Dress Shop, is just fine!" Finally, the button slipped down far enough and she gratefully finished getting her jeans down her legs. Now all that was left was removing her sneakers. Just as she bent to the task something in the waistband gave way allowing several extra feet of material to spill to the floor, instantly burying her feet in endless layers. If anyone had bothered to look in the window, all they would have seen was a huge wrinkled black mess crowding up to the ceiling. Cassidy moaned in frustrated despair, "This dress is evil! Why is it trying to provide you with a second carpet? First it's tight enough to strangle me and now it's long enough for you to wear it!" She wrestled some more, pushing aside reams of black fabric until she saw it: the toe of one of her sneakers. With a gleam of victory in her brown eyes, she dove on the exposed shoe.

"Well, it's probably analyzing you're body to judge the best possible fit," Swindle offhandedly replied, shrugging his belts. "Plus, since you're obviously in such a bad mood, the gown is most likely a little nervous. Just relax and let it adjust."

Cassidy sat frozen in place, the laces of one shoe held loosely in her fingers. Hyper-aware, her heart about ready to leap out of her chest, the brunet inquired, "Yah mean it's alive?"

"Of course," Swindle cheerfully answered.

"Ewww!" Leaping up, or at least trying to, she staggered against the chair in front of her. All around, the dress tossed and writhed in a state of great distress. Cassidy dug her fingernails into the chair back in front of her, cursing creatively. Vaguely registering that her foot had slipped out of the stubborn sneaker, but too freaked out to care, the brunet prayed the alien garment wouldn't eat her.

Enduring the painful sensation of ten sharp little organic claws digging into his upholstery, Swindle was at first silent. Meanwhile, the dress writhed, slithering off of his windows and clogging his intakes in reflected terror. At last, he spoke, his vocals strained, "Maybe I shouldn't have told you that…"

"Gee, yah think," the seventeen year old whimpered, clinging tighter. She would have been quite happily ignorant if Swindle hadn't bothered to point out the obvious. Now that she didn't have a handy excuse for every oddity, from stretching and tightening fabric, to the smooth rubbery skin-like feel, she was barely holding on to her sanity. This was all Swindle's fault! Focusing on the robot responsible, she complained, "Does everything have to come to life around you? If this is what outer-space is like, I'm staying here!" Feeling it shift and twist around her more, she looked down. The skirt was puffed up like a fancy Elizabethan gown… or like a giant meat eating jellyfish. That was when she suddenly realized that something was missing. "Oh, God! I hope it hasn't eaten Rover!"

"It doesn't eat things! The dress is a low level intelligence; it occupies the same biological niche as one of you're planet's filter-feeding fish!" This was taking far longer than he'd anticipated. He found himself grateful that he was Cybertronian, and therefore able to avoid the hassle of getting dressed every day. Shifting impatiently on his tires, enduring the sensation of three organics in his interior and not liking it one bit, he gratingly inquired, "Now can I look?"

Concentrating on pushing her remaining sneaker off with one foot, she didn't at first answer. The dress was also calming down, thank God! Breathing deeply, she sloughed off her pants, then carefully sat down with one billowy plop. Just one more thing to do. Holding her breath, she snatched up a few things from her duffle-bag and swiftly tied them to her leg. While she did this, the collar readjusted itself from a square neck to a heart shape completely on it's own. Cringing, she resisted the urge to scream. At last, the garment became still, and continuing to silently curse Swindle in her mind, she said, "Yeah, you can look… the dress is still evil, though."

"I'll keep that in mind," came his dry sarcastic response. Flicking on his internal visual sensors, he waited impatiently for the start up diagnostic to clear away. Then he stared. Blushing, the fleshling looked down. Swindle was speechless. Glittering black material that resembled armor clung to her upper body, wrapping like liquid steel along her arms and hour-glass shaped torso. Shoulder spikes (which he only belatedly recognized as feelers) rose up along her collarbone as if welded there as a living extension. In a word, gorgeous! She looked Cybertronian in origin. He honestly hadn't ever suspected that an organic could be capable of such a transformation.

Noticing the excess lights in the dashboard and feeling an acute sense of embarrassment, the brunet thought self-consciously, 'Okay, I know I'm not all that hot, but I hope I'm at least decent.' The only time she'd ever worn a dress was for church, or the rare occasion she had a part in a theater production. She brightened at that idea. 'Hey, I could look at it that way! I'm in a play, this is my costume, and everybody else are my co-stars. Yeah, that's what I'll do!' Still, the silence stretched on. Clearing her throat, she stuttered, "Well, um… is it okay? I've never really worn anything like this before, and um…" Blushing deeper, she idly played with the hem of a very much alive alien dress and wished she was anywhere but here. 'I could be performing the scam right now,' she longingly thought. 'That would be good. Then I can forget how I look and just play a roll.' Something round and green caught her eye, instantly filling her with relief. 'Oh, good. Rover's still alive.' Blissfully unaware of the living gown that had practically buried him alive a few minutes ago, the aquatic canine snoozed away.

"It's fine," Swindle declared hurriedly, at last having a proper command over his vocal processor. Mentally, he slapped himself repeatedly. _She's an organic, a fleshy, not some hot robotic number fresh off the assembly line!_ _I really need a vacation… someplace with a lot of my own kind._ Abruptly, the huckster felt the familiar sensation of a cloth shrouded knee landing on his center console and he focused back in alarm. If his vocals just happened to squeak at that exact moment, he was going to deny it to his last intake. "What are you doing?" His interior heated up in embarrassment.

Stumbling and flopping into the passenger seat in the elaborate gown, and trying to ignore how the skirt rose around her legs under it's own power, Cassidy popped open the glove compartment and reached inside. After a moments careful fumbling, she found what she was looking for and closed the hatch. Cranking the rearview mirror to a painfully sharp angle, she opened her makeup kit, all the while commenting, "Applying the finishing touches, Hon." Then she got a good look at her reflection. "Ugh! Why didn't yah tell me my hair looked like this? You'd think Rover slept in it!" She set to work primping and preening, while Swindle winced in agony.

_She's right_, the huckster reflected silently. _That dress is evil…_ His optics involuntarily drifted back to molten metal limbs and a curvy organic frame, adding an ironic, _But only in certain hands._ And speaking of hands… He cringed at the sensation of little squishy servos gripping his rearview mirror and yanking it back to the agonizing angle it had been in before. "Yow! Do you mind?"

"Do you mind," she shot back, imitating his irritatingly smooth demeanor perfectly. "It's your fault anyway, Hon, breaking my makeup-kit mirror." Keeping his mirror still, she didn't hesitate in her primping. With deft even strokes, she applied the charcoal eye-shadow. Green alien facial powder stained one side of her neck like iridescent spray paint. After a moments consideration, she decided to work with it, adding a theatrical dusting of light blue to the other side. She wasn't really used to applying makeup for anything other than a stage production, so the job might appear a little garish to some people. Cass decided to not let it bother her. 'Besides,' she mused silently, 'Goths tend to go for more obvious makeup styles than most. I'll be able to get away with it.' Her reflection abruptly veered away again, showcasing the back seat and one dozy little green chow-hound. Sighing, she jerked it back to a better angle only to cringe at an abrupt deafening engine growl. 'Maybe I did it a little too harshly that time.' Meekly, she found a new place to sit in order to see her refection before resuming.

Subsiding with a sigh, Swindle checked his internal chronometer. Five entire minutes had passed! Grumbling impatiently, both at the unexpected delay and at the organic currently making kissing expressions in his rearview mirror, he flexed his tires.

"Hey," the brunet exclaimed as the makeup kit she'd been holding bounced out of her hand at the particularly violent vehicular shudder. "What is wrong with you? You're more jittery than the Weisel twins with a new rocket." Bending down, she picked up the spilled case of powder, ignoring the thick pink smear it left behind. 'It serves him right,' she silently grumbled. 'And I thought keeping Weaz placated during a scam was tough.'

"Why do femmes always take so long to get ready, anyway? It's just a simple scam," Swindle complained a little huffily. A brief scan revealed that the powder had landed on an old soda stain, which in turn had mixed together… _Yuck, I'll never be clean again_, he silently complained. Flexing a buckle, he just barely restrained himself from walloping her.

"Execution is everything, Hon," Cassidy mumbled as she checked extra close on the eyeliner. "Do yah want this job to be slap-dash?" Smugly, she put the eyebrow pencil away and took out the eye-shadow. 'There,' she thought. 'Now he can spend the next five minutes looking up "slap-dash," while I finish applying makeup. It's a win-win scenario. I can get a job done, and he gets to learn a new slang word.' Since her hair was such a nasty shade of green (in fact, something awfully close to Swindle's armor color), she'd decided to try to match the makeup over her eyes. The mirror tilted a different direction. "Argh! You are so annoying! Yah see, this is why I wanted to get changed in a fast-restroom somewhere. Instead, I have to mess with makeup and hair twenty-five minutes longer than normal! This is all your fault!"

"My fault? If you hadn't decided to argue for thirty-seven point nine minutes over whether or not I was watching you, you would have been done with your disguise and the scam! Instead, all you're doing is sitting there, glaring at me…" Small organic fingers abruptly twisted his radio on with painful force, drowning out his words with ninety decibel country music. A fierce electric zap through his dial solved that problem rather quickly. She jerked back and he rotated his radio knob to 'off' under his own power. "As I was saying, you're still sitting here," he repeated himself testily, "Behaving like a child…"

Taking her burnt fingers out of her mouth, she taunted, "Newsflash: I am a child." Just to prove it, she stuck her tongue out at the flickering dashboard before reaching into the back seat to grab her sneakers. It wasn't technically the right thing to wear for this kind of getup, but she figured she could get away with it. The skirt went down to the floor. Jerking on each shoe, she tugged the laces extra tight.

Nearly to the point of boiling his oil in anger, he replied, "And to that I say grow up!"

"I'm done," Cassidy announced anti-climatically.

Cutting himself off mid-rant, Swindle swallowed his words. A rapid visual examination revealed that, yes, the organic really was fully prepared. With her pulled and mussed hair piled haphazardly atop her head, and strands of green dyed curls randomly drifting down, it looked like something a specialist had done. Then there was the metallic green over her eyes and blackened optic ridges (eyebrows, he reminded himself), as well as the thick white powder, and dark red lipstick. She looked so artificial he had to slap himself again for comparing her to a femme of his own species. Before he could entertain any more disturbing thoughts, he wordlessly opened his driver's side door, grateful when she swished out without a word.

Standing up straight for the first time in ten hours, Cassidy breathed her first lungful of free air. It tasted of exhaust fumes and garbage, but at least it didn't smell of recycled air. With a flump, the garment gave way to gravity, writhing around until it's skirt was thoroughly covering her legs. Red faced, she smoothed out her dress, noting that, 'Yes, that weird knife is still exactly where I've put it, wrapped thickly in a pair of sweat pants and tied securely to my thigh by a couple of stained sweat-socks. Safely hidden from a certain smarmy alien's view.' Slipping into character for her 'Madam Darkness' persona, she slowly straightened and favored the Mitsubishi with an oh-so-sultry, predatory stare. Contemptuously, the door slammed shut and all lights went out. As she confidently stalked away the bedecked teenager smirked. 'Hopefully,' she mused, 'He'll be so busy sulking that he won't notice a few changes in the game plan.'

If a car was capable of scowling, Swindle would be. Embarrassed, he stared at the damp asphalt. _I have a job to do_, he determinedly thought. _Think of the millions of credits I'll earn, winning back Megatron's favor, and all the different scams I have lined up after this. Not that slagging femme… Even if she abruptly expires, it wouldn't really bother me. She's just a means to an end. Even if it is amusing to win the occasional argument or foil her latest poorly thought out plot. And yeah, she is wearing a fairly expensive sales item, but it's not like I'll miss her or anything…_ It was the threat of lost credits that finally roused him from his processor loops, and he flared his headlights brightly. "Cassidy!" The fleshy jumped at his abrupt shout and twisted to look at him with suspicious alarm. "Don't even think of damaging that…"

Slumping, the brunet rolled her eyes. "Yeesh! Don't freaking worry so much! I'll bet there's only five things in existence that could even hurt this dress, anyway!"

"And knowing you, you'll discover all of them at the same time," he snidely answered. "I'm just saying…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Cass sighed in exasperation. "I'll be a good little girl. The boys won't kiss me on the first date, I won't accept a drink that's already been opened, and I won't go home with a random stranger. Now let me get on with my job!" In a foul mood, she stalked off, her sneakers smacking wetly as she unexpectedly found a deep puddle. "Great," she grumbled, "Now my socks are wet. What a perfect was to spend the evening!"

Silence ensued for a long moment as the Decepticon watched her disappear into the misty night. Upon reaching the crowded door, her personality did an abrupt transformation from hotly immature, to chilly with a touch of dementia. Smoothly presenting her card for the bouncer, she swept inside without any hesitation. Not until she had vanished from sight did he finish his sentence. "…Good luck."


	27. Chapter 27

Confidence Game

Chapter 27: Sly Step Forward

By: Mooncrossed

_This chapter was somewhat difficult to write, but with a lot of prayer and help from friends and family, it's up. I'd like to thank writergurl616 for her review (Keep in mind that Cassidy is very similar to Swindle, she just might surprise you), and to Queenofthebloodmoon (thanks… it's nice to know you like it). I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, Star Wars, or My Little Pony. Hope you enjoy it. _

_At the Autobot Base…_

Hesitant, almost afraid to be heard, a little voice squeaked, "Optimus? Why did Swindle take that kid? I mean, I thought they only killed people… They don't usually take hostages, right?" Sari sat upon what looked like a tall metal table, one fit for a giant. Lying next to her was a yellow and black Cybertronian in deep recharge. He'd been that way for nearly two days now. Half a football field away upon a matching metal table was another much thinner mech, painted in black and chrome. Unlike Bumblebee, Prowl was wide awake. This was the med-bay of the Autobot's little makeshift base. Presiding over them as their lord and ruler (at least while they were damaged), was Ratchet. Optimus Prime had finally recovered from what the medic described as: "A slagging martyr complex leading to un-repairable stupidity." Instead of leaving, though, he sat next to Bulkhead up against the wall, keeping a silent vigil over his crew. At the tiny human's question, however, his optics opened wide and he began to stutter out an excuse.

"She's got a right to know, Prime," the old army medic said in Cybertronian. Ratchet fixed him with a look of haunted wisdom. "Would you ever be able to forgive yourself if those slaggers ever got a hold of her?"

Optimus studied him for a long moment, torn between maintaining the small organic's youthful innocence and giving her knowledge she had every right to know. At last, he sighed, the air rushing out of his vents with a dry hiss. "Alright Ratchet," he agreed, likewise in their language. "Just try not to go into too many details. I don't want her to lie awake, too scared to re-charge, after all."

Both 'Bots looked down at the small nine year old. She looked on the verge of a temper tantrum, with her hands on her hips, and a miniature scowl on her face. Add in the pig-tails, which looked so much like sensory horns, and she almost looked like a newborn of their species. "Come here, youngling," Ratchet beckoned in English, fighting back a rueful smile. The thought of what he was about to tell her, though, was pretty sobering. He waited until she'd clambered onto his knee before continuing. "Truth is, 'Cons don't kill everyone. A rare few are spared."

Sari's nose wrinkled skeptically, "So, they let them go?"

"Heh! Hardly," the medic grimly chuckled. "If they think you have useful information, they'll try to get it out of you, one way or the other."

"How?" The small girl tilted her head in curiosity. She knew the Decepticons were bad news, and you should never be friends with them, or be nice to them… But she didn't know why. They were the bad guys, end of story.

"Trickery, torture, hacking… They try it all," he explained, slowly shaking his head. Already, the old memories were starting to surface. 'War… once you experience it, you never forget it,' he thought tiredly.

Traces of worry entered her brown eyes, darkening them slightly, "What if you don't have information." She remembered when Blackarachnia had caught her. Back then it had been scary, but she knew that the guys would come rescue her… kind of. They always did! So she had done her best to stall things, by giving false directions, and playing along. It had even been fun… in a terrifying sort of way, and yet… The giant she-spider HAD been trying to be her friend. If that hadn't worked, would she have hurt her? Thoughts of fangs and hard metal claws caused her to shudder.

"No information?" Ratchet blinked at the idea, coming out of a fog of horrible memory files from ages past. Abrupt anger surged through him and he busied himself with re-arranging his medical tools. His engine grumbling loudly, he replied, "Then they kill you, end of story!"

"Not necessarily, Ratchet," a cool unemotional voice interrupted from one of the medical berths. He graciously accepted the medic's glare with a small smile, though that didn't stop him from inspiring Sari's curiosity by continuing to speak in English. "There have been a few instances in the past, rare though they were…"

"Alright, alright," Ratchet waved off his suggestion like a buzzing fly. "Yes, there have been a few cases of folks getting taken for other reasons… And you should be resting and letting your systems recalibrate!" Prowl conceded with an elegant nod, before laying back down. All the while, he ignored the medic's glare.

Questioningly, Sari wondered, "Then what happens to them?" She blinked in curiosity, tilting her head in just such a way that it reminded everyone of a youngling of their species requesting knowledge.

"Some of them are used as slave labor," Ratchet explained. "Being forced to work on next to no energon rations, used as living shields, or worse… Those are the lucky ones." He gazed down sadly into the small organics dark red eyes, lost in the past.

"But what could be worse than that?" By this point, Sari was on the edge of her seat. Her dad had been missing for over two months now. He'd disappeared during the last major battle against Megatron, yet she refused to think he was dead. Now she wondered, 'Could he be a prisoner of theirs? Were they hurting him? Starving him?' She shuddered before a determined light entered her brown eyes. 'Don't worry, Dad. I'll get you back… somehow.'

"Oh," Ratchet paused to run a servo over his faceplates, creating a painful grinding noise of metal on metal. He missed the way the small red-head winced at the noise. "Sometimes they're low in numbers. In that case, they'd have no problem with erasing somebody's hard-drive and rewriting a memory or two so that you think you're one of them."

Filling in her mental checklist, Sari mumbled, "So, brainwashing, huh?" At the confused expressions all around, she flashed a sheepish smile. "Heh, heh, it's a Human term."

Prowl's sophisticated vocals interrupted a second time, "There is also one other fate that has befallen some unfortunates." Slowly, he turned his head to lock optics with the doctor. "You've seen it as well as I have…"

"I was getting to that," Ratchet snarled self defensively. Picking up a nearby tool, which happened to be a wrench, he flung it at the reclined motorcycle. "Now go into recharge, frag-it! I don't know how you did it, but your processor got scrambled so badly, it's a wonder you're still functional!" Once he was certain his patient had done as ordered, the medic gazed down at the tiny organic and felt a little of his ire melt away. "And yes, youngling, there is one final fate that occasionally befalls prisoners of the 'Cons. It's rare that it happens, but…" Sigh. "Those poor fraggers."

"What?" Sari clambered for the next part in the story. It was like a scary campfire story, only worse. These things really happened! "Are they encased in carbomite and used as wall art? Do they mutate them in science experiments? Tell me!"

"Pets," Ratchet simply answered. At her confused expression, he clarified. "The Decepticons consider themselves the highest life forms in the universe. Everyone else is inferior… including the Autobots. So, on rare occasions, they'll make a prisoner their pet."

"Well, that doesn't sound so bad," Sari began, only to jump at the odd rattling cough of the other robots in the room. Her eyes widening as she shrank down into herself, squeaking nervously, "Right?"

"Wrong," Optimus interjected with a weary laugh. Thinking about the matter for a moment, he inquired, "Sari, you remember that little robo-dog you used to have? How did you treat him?"

"Huh? You mean Sparkplug?" She scratched her head. "Alright, I guess… I played with him and plugged him in to recharge when he got tired, most of the time…" When she used to live with her dad in his fancy pent-house apartment, she had all sorts of cool toys. It seemed like not even a day would pass by and she'd get a jumbo trampoline, or a new video game, or a brand new bedroom set with her favorite cartoon characters as the theme. One day, when she was just five, she was traveling with her dad and six body guards in his fancy armor plated limo to another boring meeting. Just as she glanced out the window, she saw a teenager in a cool yellow dress with matching go-go boots, out walking a small dog. "That's what I wanna look just like when I grow up," she'd declared happily. A month later, she was greeted by a small robotic dog, and fifty matching yellow dresses. Her dad had been standing in the back corner of her room looking weary, but triumphant. He'd worked hard inventing 'Sparkplug,' because he was allergic to dogs and it was really so much easier to invent one for her. The dresses had been special ordered and custom made in Paris.

"Okay," Optimus agreed. "Let's say, Starscream decides you're his pet. He feeds you… most of the time. Since he's usually plotting and experimenting all the time, though, he'll probably forget. But don't worry, he'll take you for walks to show you off to all his Decepticon friends. Then, when he's bored he'll play with you."

Trying to imagine that life, Sari squinted slightly in thought. She pictured being forced to wear Sparkplug's little red collar, getting dragged around everywhere on the end of a leash, almost never getting fed… Then she wondered what Starscream might consider 'playing,' and shuddered.

Nodding gravely, Optimus knowingly continued, "Now you understand. It's just a bad idea to be captured, especially by the Decepticons. So, you'll be sure to avoid that as much as possible from now on. Right?"

"Yeah!" Sari nodded enthusiastically, before becoming grim. Her dad was still missing… She pictured him wearing a little red collar and scowled. Then a new thought occurred to her, and she looked up with a new sense of resolve. "We have to get that other girl away from Swindle before those creeps do one of those things to her!"

"Right on top of it, Sari," an unexpected voice cheerfully piped up from across the room. Bumblebee grinned down at the tiny red-head from his medical berth, a little banged up, but no worse for wear. He winced at the girl's shriek of excitement as she practically flew through the air to get to him. Within minutes, she had not only scaled down Ratchet, she had also monkey climbed the side of the massive bio-bed. The yellow mech laughed at the sensation of tiny organic servos and small rubber clad feet skittering along his armor.

"Bee! You're awake!" Hugging the Autobot around the neck as far as her scrawny arms could reach, she laughed her relief. Then she scowled. Aiming a kick at the nearest piece of jutting metal, she glared at the manic yellow 'Bot. "And don't ever do that again! I thought all you guys were goners! Seriously, you're the only friends I've got and I'd hate it if I lost one of you!"

"Aww, Sari," Bumblebee complained, giving her a watery hurt expression. The kick didn't do any damage, but he never missed an opportunity to get a little attention. "Nobody could take me down that easily!" A sudden alarm went off, causing both human and Autobot to jump in surprise. As one, the entire room looked up toward a small flashing red light.

Prowl was already accessing the police bands. "It looks as if Swindle has been sighted. The police are being dispatched to apprehend a Mitsubishi Gallant of the proper description, located in a back alley on the south side of town. Apparently the FBI and the CIA also wish to be involved, and are having a heated argument over who has the proper jurisdiction."

"Yes," Bumblebee cheered, jumping up and doing a victory dance. Sari clung to his neck giggling. "Time to give that lousy, no-good Swindle a little payback!" Transforming into a small yellow compact car with racing stripes, and tossing the little girl into his driver's seat in the process, he raced for the door. That was when a big robotic foot slammed down into the concrete, stopping him in his tracks.

"Now not so fast, younglings," Ratchet intoned while conducting several scans. "Not before I've checked to make sure you're completely healed. And after that, we are going as a team! You got that?" He aimed a dogged warning glare at Prowl, who had yet again come out of recharge and was sitting up. "No more of this fragging 'lone-wolf' nonsense. I'm tired of having you sorry slaggers in my med-bay all the time!"

"That's good," the yellow 'Bot whispered to his passenger. "Because we hate staying here." Sari stifled a giggle at his comment.

"Ratchet's right," Optimus announced after clearing his vocal processor. "We stand a better chance at taking down Swindle if we work as a team." Looking over at the doctor, who sighed explosively, but nodded his medical consent, he smiled. Then Prime glanced down at Sari, who was peering up at him through Bumblebee's open window with a mixture of hurt feelings and annoyance. "The entire team. Everyone, let's transform and roll out!"

Sari squealed in excitement and bounced back down into the chair. In seconds, every Autobot was out of the base and speeding toward the last sighting of the Decepticon they were after. It was on the bad side of Detroit, nearby a newly opened nightclub called the 'Super Nova.'

_Meanwhile, on the other side of town…_

She drifted elegantly through the milling crowd. 'Hey,' Cassidy congratulated herself. 'I can do this! Bouncers, dancers, waiters, and diners, all an absolute breeze to get past!' Smiling sweetly, the brunet accepted an horsdevore from a serving tray while she glided to a new position across the room. 'Nobody's even looking my way, I'm home free. Now, as long as Iris never finds out that I decided to shamelessly imitate her during this heist… I just might survive until my Junior year of high school.'' Inwardly grimacing to herself at the thought, she cast an off-focus glance around the room for her targets. It was true that Iris was a terror, with her long blood red fingernails, her pointed, perfect-for-kicking shoes, and her vengeful ways when she was crossed. Pasting on another teeth baring grin, the brunet twirled as silently as a whisper to the next vantage point and… Did somebody just pinch her butt?

Freezing, hyper alert for the least little movement, she glanced around. Nothing. She was going through a heavy knot of people all dancing and parading around with serving trays. It could have been anyone! Cassidy fumed, her black painted lips parting slightly to reveal sharp little teeth, and raccoon eyes narrowing slightly, unknowingly looking even more crazed than her undercover role demanded. A sudden eerie quality entered the dance floor as the overhead lights dimmed and flickered, with a few bulbs threatening to go out. For a brief instant, little reflective streaks in her dress picked up the moonlight and made her look truly alien. Then the affect was lost.

Deciding to shrug it off as her imagination, Cassidy twirled as lightly as the breeze across the dance floor… and there it was again! Something had caressed her butt, she was sure of it! 'How dare… whoever it was,' the brunet groused silently, as she glared around at the nearest patrons. Unfortunately, the bastard responsible had been as slick as a professional pick-pocket. Scowling, she stomped to a nearby pillar and leaned against it, her arms crossed. Morosely scanning the room again, she noted several things. One was the waiter graciously bowing to a rather rotund man in an expensive pinstripe suit. Another was a gorgeous woman in a scarlet sheath dress performing pirouettes in the arms of a man twice her age. 'Oh, yeah, sure,' she mused, rolling her eyes. 'Ten to one, the chick's a gold-digger.' And then there was the bouncer that was eying her in an extremely unfriendly manner. 'Right, so, moving on…'

Just as she was seamlessly slipping through a rather thick crowd of newly arrived gangsters, she felt it. One very large hand latching onto her derriere as if it belonged there. Well, she was ready for him! Lashing out violently, she slammed her hand down on the mystery pervert in a harsh smack. 'There,' Cass cheered silently while presenting a pixie-like smile to an aged well-wisher. 'Taught that guy not to mess with… me?' In stunned alarm, she looked down to discover the alien gown scrunch up around her body in abrupt agony. She was now wearing what appeared to be a pair of wrinkly black bags in place of a skirt, one over each leg. Biting her lip, Cassidy eyed this sudden fashion change as she lifted up one exposed dirty sneaker.

'Actually,' the brunet reflected. 'They look a little like shimmering black harem pants now.' Reaching down, she patted the living cloth in an attempt to sooth it. Instead, this action only seemed to make the dress cling tighter, and now it was shivering. Then she looked up. The old man she'd been making nice with was staring at her in mystified alarm, as was his mistress, and his gun toting bodyguards. "Um… heh, heh? Sorry, static cling." She faked a little laugh, before quickly excusing herself and made a beeline for the bathroom. Once inside, she helplessly petted the alien garment again. "Come on, come on," she begged. "Don't tell me that I've managed to break it after only three minutes? Swindle's going to kill me!"

To her dismay, her actions only made the situation worse. First starting with the decorative metallic spikes, then traveling down to the bodice beneath it, the entire gown drooped off of her body listlessly. When her sports bra began making an appearance, she knew she had to take drastic measures. "Woah Dress! Hey, um… er, sorry for slapping yah back there. Yah just startled me, that's all." She held her breath as the gorgeous lump of textile seemed to hesitate for a moment, before gently reaching up with one decorative spike inquisitively curled. Cassidy flinched. Sensing this perceived rejection, the gothic garment resumed it's slump toward the floor. Now the seventeen year old was struggling to keep her panties from being exposed. "Thank God, I'm not out in public," she muttered, scooping up layers of slippery material. Something pinched her hand hard. "Youch! Okay, I'm sorry for that too! Don't go away please, please, oh, pretty please!" The living material seemed to pause at the word 'Pretty,' and she latched onto it with heartfelt intensity. 'So it wants to be praised? I can do that! I'll tell the stupid dress that it's the next Einstein, as long as it doesn't leave me nude in the middle of gangster central!'

Wavering contemplatively, the alien dress hesitated. It didn't understand languages, per-se… but it did read emotions. When it's master had pulled it out of the purple world where it had resided for centuries, and presented it to an actual person to be worn, it had been thrilled. No more skulking across the metal and dust of a neglected landscape, no more curling around a nesting animal to cleanse it of parasites for food. It's species had formed over the centuries to be worn, to decorate as well as protect in return for sustenance. Sadly, for the longest time, it didn't even have that basic need. That's why it had been so excited, wrapping around her, squeezing, and generally engaging in such immature roughhousing, because it had been lonely. Only now, it had been slapped! Cautiously, wary of more pain, it extended a feeler up to the two-legged creature's face in search of a clearer understanding of it's wearer's emotions. If she was as friendly as her voice suggested, then maybe it would stay…

Through great strength of will, Cassidy didn't run screaming for the nearest exit. Stock still, her heart pounding fiercely enough to have a place in the jazz ensemble playing outside, she watched that long, sharp, metallic spike curl toward her left cheek. Squeezing her eyes shut in alarm, she muttered under her breath, "Don't kill me, don't kill me. Oh, God, I'm gonna die! Don't kill me, don't kill me…" Something feathery and light gently caressed the apple of her cheek and her eyes popped open. The sensor spike flinched back just as quickly, hovering there. Swallowing hard, the brunet felt it came back again. Silently, she endured what felt like feline whiskers brushing softly against her chin, her nose, then her neck, and ears. For a long still moment, the dress shivered contemplatively. She held her breath.

Finally, the gown seemed to reach a decision, because it once again drew taught along her torso and arms, with the skirt flowing and spilling around her waist like dream. Cassidy relaxed. 'Oh, good,' she thought, happily. 'I don't have to streak a nightclub.' A couple of sensor spikes brushed her jaw and she smirked. 'It's just like a big slouchy cat, all boneless and soft, too lazy to hunt mice. Yeah, that analogy is perfect.' One eyebrow rose, as she considered the odd garment in the mirror. 'Still… it might be a good idea to hedge my bets.' Taking a deep breath, and feeling more than a little ridiculous, she said out loud, "Look at you, what a gorgeous dress!"

The young woman just entering the restroom was fairly pretty, in an overly made up sort of way. With her carefully coifed red hair, her exaggerated nineteen-fifties style fire-engine red lipstick and heavy mascara, she appeared about a decade younger than she really was. Still, she had to powder her nose, and this was an excellent time to make her boyfriend fidget. At the sound of what was going on just beyond the door, though, Marette Liebowitz nearly reconsidered.

"You're so pretty," Cassidy gushed encouragingly. The brunet had quickly discovered that out of all the words she could use for the alien gown, 'Pretty' was the ultimate buzz word. Responding to her latest praise, the black skirt puffed up to ball gown proportions. "In fact," she added, "Yah put all the other dresses to shame! I haven't seen a nicer looking garment in all my life!" Now it was positively shimmering like an iridescent crystal. "Why, I've never seen anything more lovely than what's in the mirror right now!" On a roll now, she didn't even notice that she had any witnesses until the door slammed open hard, making her jump.

Calmly, the haughty young woman in World War Two elegance strutted her way up to the sink, where she proceeded to wash her hands. Once that was done, Marette opened her custom made makeup kit, only pausing to give Cassidy a cursory glance from head to toe. Sniffing disdainfully, the redhead proceeded to apply her lipstick. The teenager's blush deepened to crimson. Seeming to pick up on her mood, the alien gown lost a little of it's shimmer, becoming as dull as terrycloth. Thankfully, it didn't fall off this time.

Cass jumped again at the snap of the woman's compact, which looked extremely expensive, with a gold inlayed motif of a clock on the outside. "A word to the wise, sweetie," she drawled condescendingly. "Arrogance is unattractive. You'll never catch the boys with that attitude. Not no way, not no how, nada, and never." Tucking her makeup kit back into her purse, one that was decorated with clock faces and little watch patterns, she offered a fake red painted smile. Turning, she gracefully exited, despite the break-your-neck custom made stiletto heels on her feet.

It wasn't until the woman was out of sight, the door swishing shut behind her, that it suddenly clicked in Cassidy's mortified brain. Red hair, pointed chin, hour-glass figure, way too revealing outfit… That was one of the people in the Robin-Hood wannabe's wallet. Spinning around, she raced for the door only to skid to a halt. Any and all color drained from her face as she hurriedly stumbled backwards. There, bigger than life, with a wingspan that could rival a small jet-plane, was a moth. Right on the door frame near the handle, it rested in all it's menacing glory. Her eyes bugging out, she backpedaled still further, especially when one fuzzy feeler flexed in her direction. She gulped in rising panic, watching as a pair of tattered white wings flexed. The bug skittered slightly closer to the florescent lights in the ceiling of the room. By now, the brunet was practically on top of the sink. With a sudden flap, the bug launched itself into the air, straight for one terrified brunet's reflective black skirt. Terrified, her response was predictably just as random, if a lot louder. "Yaaaugh!"

_While at the same time in a nearby parking garage…_

"What is taking that loony femme so long, anyway?" Here Swindle sat, in yet another underground parking lot, bored out of his mind. When it had begun to rain again, and disliking the possibility of raindrops mixing with the grime on his armor, he'd decided to move. Sighing, he glanced at the Hearts game he had up on his HUD, before closing it. Don't get him wrong, he was fine with other people doing all the work, as long as he got to reap the rewards. It was just that he didn't enjoy sitting still for any length of time. Grumbling internally at the restraints placed on him by a technologically backwards alien culture, he again brought up the schematics for the latest heist. This was the one that would get him the timepiece, he could feel it in his circuits. He also had full faith in Cassidy… up to a point. Idly, he glanced at the small blip that identified the little fleshy amongst the rest of her kind.

_She's in the building, exactly as planned, _he mused speculatively before looking closer._ But what is she doing?_ Puzzled and instantly suspicious, the huckster studied the building plan of the nightclub he had so graciously downloaded without her knowledge. _The fleshling is inside the bathroom… running around in circles?_ For a moment, he stared, almost dreading what he'd find if he researched this phenomenon, before groaning and running a quick scan of the area. "Let's see," he read off his HUD monitoring system. "Contents of room: two-hundred insects, fifteen rats, and one human." Since there were no traces of weapons or artificial substances that might be affecting her organic brain, the Decepticon went to the next logical step. Calling up another schematic, he scanned the swiftly running Human on a molecular level. Then he compared it to her last file. _Hmmm, no trace of toxins, no injuries, aside from a few bruises and cracked ribs, but there does appear to be a high level of adrenaline. Now what would cause…?_

Abruptly, Swindle stopped and called up another file, one he'd taken earlier. It was a special notation which had taken a painstaking level of effort to jot down, if only to avoid it. Simultaneously, he began a new scan, one geared toward locating a specific kind of creature. His scanner pinged as it located what he was searching for. 'Hummingbird Clearwing Moth,' his HUD pleasantly informed him. 'Scientific classification: Hemaris thysbe, it is among the largest of it's species in the western United States, with a wingspan of…' Ruthlessly shutting it off, the huckster spent a good twenty-seven point six seconds cursing to the high heavens. At last, morosely, the Decepticon watched that rapidly moving little blip on his sight map. A few moments hacking allowed him to use the security camera above the door to the women's bathroom. Then he just stared.

Cassidy was currently just as terrified, just as crazy, and just as hyper as the last time she had seen one of those harmless little insects. He watched as she shrieked and raced around in circles while the insect, zipped and whizzed around in the air above her. For a brief moment, she came close to the door, her hand was even on the handle, but then the moth arrived with a graceful fluttering of wings right in front of her. So, naturally, she went screaming in a different direction. 'It's almost as if it's playing with her,' he observed in weary bemusement. 'And the bug is obviously more intelligent, more maneuverable, demands less pay, and is more personable… Note to self: moth may make better employee than human.' After observing her antics for a moment longer, Swindle focused yet again on his internal repairs. His force-field generator was almost ready for use. "I'll give her five minutes to get out of there," he at last stated aloud. "Then, I'm taking over."

In the meantime, while the countdown was underway he decided to review a backlog of new words he had yet to find definitions for. So, online dictionary at the ready, he accessed the first pre-recording. 'Help,' a tinny Human voice shouted desperately, 'I've been kidnapped by a salesman who's gone rabid! Save, me!' Stopping the tape, the 'Con mused over that odd word as he idly scanned the Internet. Looking up everything he hadn't understood before seemed like a fun way to pass the time. "Hmmm," the 'Con-mech hummed speculatively. "Well, I can't get infected by any kind of fleshy virus, so I don't see why she'd say something like… Why that little…!" He read a little further into the definition and his interior temperature rose a few degrees. Looking up the other words on the list, he discovered they were nearly all a mixture of insults and curse words. At last, with an angry huff, he deleted the entire mess. "When I catch up with that femme, there are going to be consequences… And oh, good, she's managed to escape the organic waste facilities." Mildly impatient, he observed as the brunet bowled over an elderly matron who was just opening the door. Satisfied, he hacked into a different security feed to discover that she was now dancing? There she was, twirling around the dance floor, a crazed smile on her painted face.

Watching the show via a small security camera, Swindle could only stare. "What is that femme thinking?" Rover scratched his climbing claws against the Decepticon's driver's side door, but he ignored it. The current image on his pirated video feed was far too interesting to bother with the needs of a tiny non-sentient sales-item. "There she is," he declared as he watched Slow-mo strut by Cassidy with barely a glance sideways. To the huckster's distress, the brunet walked the opposite direction. He waved his seatbelts in frustration at the image on his HUD like a spectator at a Cybertronian battle ring. "No, no, no! Follow her, frag-it! She went right by you, as clear as binary coding!"

Normally, he wouldn't care about the daily events in these little organic's lives. They were small, dirty, primitive, and had nothing of value. There was just one major difference, he had a serious chunk of credits riding on this!

Rover scratched at the door again and gave the radio a pitiful look. 'Warm-Thing went out this door just a little while ago,' the small green alien morosely thought. 'Didn't Talker (his chosen name for Swindle) understand he needed to follow? Who would give him food? Or play fun games like rip up the seat-cushions?' He'd tried to play a game of tug-o-war with one of the cloth snakes, but Talker had gotten angry and taken it away. Now he was bored. Mournfully, he set to work bathing a webbed paw, and the carpeting beneath it, in a thick viscous green drool.

At the moment, the Decepticon was trying to find a few good shortcuts to use in his repairs. Of all the devices he had, his force-field was the most important. Not only was it useful at protecting his paintjob, it also was perfect for deflecting stray energy bolts. He was so deeply embroiled in convoluted coding, that it took a moment for him to notice that his back carpeting felt…damp, sort of sticky. In fact, it felt a lot like… "Rover!" The grrbreazzzzrg croaked in alarm and hopped back from the three inch deep puddle of green drool it had created. "Bad Rover! Very bad!" Hopefully, the tiny alien scratched at the nearest door and gave his ceiling a pleading look. "No! Now, go to bed. Go on… Good, grrbreazzzzrg."

He didn't take his sensors off of the creature until it had skulked back under his driver's seat, all of it's frills drooping in shame. Sighing loudly through his vents, the sales-mech went back to work, only to pause. Yet more wetness was occurring… right beneath his driver's seat… "ROVER! That's it! You're getting a time out! Wrapping three belts around the protesting little alien, he dragged it out of it's hiding place and up onto his seat cushion. Ready and waiting, his subspace portal loomed, menacing and dark. Swindle was fully prepared to heave the little miscreant back into his inventory supplies if two things hadn't occurred. One was his HUD, declaring that his force-field generator was at last operational, and the other, was sixteen climbing claws sinking into his upholstery deeply enough to leave permanent marks.

Residents of Detroit would later tell stories about the unearthly howl that rose up into the night sky. Some swore it was some kind of ghost, others believed it must have been some sort of werewolf or ghoul. Regardless of it's origin, three pedestrians crossed themselves and got off the street, several dozen more wet the bed, and a street hustler chose to find a different corner to work on. But that was neither here, nor there.

Down in the little alley, Swindle blinked cleaning fluid out of his optics while cursing bitterly in seventy-six different languages. That chair was going to have to be replaced. Withdrawing his sensory coils from around the little terror didn't seem to be enough. Apparently, Rover was intelligent enough to keep his climbing claws fully extended even when he'd shut down the portal. A few gentle strokes from the nearest seatbelts only made the alien growl. "Bad Rover… Ugh, that femme has been a really bad influence…" Claws sliced brutally through one of his wires. "YOW! Okay, I take it back, I take it back!" Searching frantically for a way to distract it, and hopefully disengage it's claws in the process, he raised up his view screen. Unfortunately, a late night cartoon show wasn't good enough. Then an idea occurred to him. Accessing the camera feed he'd hacked into inside the Super Nova nightclub, he presented that image instead. Taking one look, the grrbreazzzzrg hopped free with a happy croak and a spray of loose stuffing. "YOUCH! Fragging animal…" Pressing his froggy face up against the image of Cassidy in her evening finery, he joyfully proceeded to bathe it with his green slimy tongue. Shuddering from bumper to bumper, and feeling horribly sorry for himself, he moaned, "Ewww."

_And now from a human perspective…_

Cassidy's eyes widened. "What is a kid doing here?' There she was, an adorable little strawberry blond sitting on top of a booster seat. The teenager watched in confusion even as she accepted a martini glass and pretended to drink it. 'Nope, not a midget,' she mused as she caught sight of _My Little Pony_ themed stockings, 'At least, I hope not. So, what kind of moron brings a kid no older than seven to an adult shindig like this. I mean, seriously…' Then the girl grinned a gap toothed, slightly sadistic smile, and Cass suddenly recognized her. She might not be wearing all black, and there wasn't a mask over her eyes, but she could identify that smile anywhere. It was the kid that had been strangling a teddy-bear in that photo the Angry Archer had.

At this point, most people would discount the girl as a joke. It was a little kid that some sick bastard had convinced the club bouncers to let in. What kind of danger could she pose? Cass wasn't like most people. She watched as tough guys, lady mobsters, and the serving staff, all gave her a wide berth. Any who dared to speak to her behaved as cringing and eloquent as if they were addressing the British Royalty. Add in the halfway murderous lunatic eyes… Repressing a shudder, Cassidy reflected, "Out of anybody, this kid needs therapy. And considering that this prognosis is coming from me, it's really bad!'

The only other person at the table was, of course, her mark. She sat perched on her chair, with her knees together, and her ankles tucked underneath. Looking mildly depressed, she sipped at a cocktail and twirled one lock of red hair. Unexpectedly accepting a dance with a passing stranger, she pondered over her options. So far, she had seen only half the people from the Archer's photographs. Now that just left the question: Where were the others? Puzzling over this conundrum for a moment, and trying to ignore how her dress was running it's feelers along her right ear, she danced gaily around the room. That's when she spotted him. He wasn't wearing a scuba outfit and a jet pack, and the hand he used to tip his fedora didn't have a black rubber glove on it, but she'd recognize those teeth anywhere. Presenting a fancy little silver wrapped box with a red bow on it, Nino Sexton, better known as 'Nano-Sec' revealed a snaggletooth smile. Cass drifted nearer as he performed a little bow for the depressed red-head.

"Nino," she exclaimed. "This is a surprise… I see ol' Archie is rubbing off on yah." She opened it, and her face lit up in wild delight. Removing a beat up old pocket watch, she tackled the taller man in a sudden enthusiastic hug. "You found it! Oh, you darling of a man. Finally, I can… Where is it?" The watch had been in her hand, she had felt it between her gloved fingers, and now it was missing!

"Perhaps this is thine culprit," a snobby British accented voice interrupted. There the Angry Archer stood, in hand embroidered black tights, dark green velvet jerkin, and tall custom made pointed boots. Standing right next to him was Cassidy in all her gothic finery, trussed up like a burrito in six layers of rope. Nino Sexton, better known as Nano-sec, smoothly stepped forward. It only took a few minutes, and some wildly roving fingers to locate the energy stopping device. Now four pairs of eyes were glaring at her. The Archer tugged a little tighter on the rope. "What dost thou have to say for thyself?"

"I hate thieves," the tiny strawberry blond interrupted in self righteous anger. Cassidy winced at the child's shrill tones. Standing up in her chair, the kid waved food smeared fists. "They're dirty, nasty, and naughty! As Professor Powerful, I say: punish her, punish her now!" She finished off her harshly whispered pronouncement with a girlish giggle.

"Wait a minute," Nano-sec interrupted. "Yah look familiar…" He snapped his fingers. "That's it! She's that kid that's been blared all over the news, the one that got kidnapped by a robot! There's a pretty hefty reward out for her… And if we capture that alien, we'd get even more cash!"

Cassidy stared at him in consternation. A reward? From who? Her parents had next to nothing! They didn't know anybody rich enough to offer anything! Beyond that, there was something else in the weirdo's little speech that had caught her attention. "Catch one of those guys," she blurted out incredulously. "How? He's the size of a freaking tennis court!" She raised one eyebrow at the pocket watch as it was dangled in front of her nose.

"With this," Marette declared with relish, already imagining the reward money in her hands. "Oh it will be simple, effortless, easy as pie, smooth…"

"Alright, already," Cassidy mumbled while rolling her eyes, sick of listening to her. She quickly regretted it when she had everybody glaring at her again. Before anything bad could come out of her little comment, however, something came in through the door. It was a small green ball. Rolling around the feet of patrons and bouncers, waiters and dancers, it tumbled down the stairs, until with a chirp it unfolded itself. Rover blinked up at them innocently, looking from one person to another. Then he apparently decided the people surrounding the brunet were bad, because he began croaking loudly.

"Aww, it's a puppy," the strawberry blond cooed. Climbing down out of her chair, she attempted to coax it to her open hand, a gap-toothed grin on her freckled face. Not fooled for an instant, Rover continued to croak menacingly, waving his forepaws in the air and spreading his skin flaps.

"Ew," was Slow-mo's assessment even as she took a delicate step back. "It looks like some kind of oversized mutated frog. Udella, don't touch it. The thing probably has fifteen diseases." Her lips pursed in disgust even as she did her best to dissuade the small girl away from it.

"It's a fruppy," Cassidy announced. In disbelief, the assembled villains stared at her. Sheepishly, she explained, "Half frog, half puppy. The best of both worlds?" Silently, everyone continued to study her, the vociferous croaks of an agitated alien house pet punctuating the background… And then the front door exploded.


	28. Chapter 28

Confidence Game

Chapter 28: Party Crasher

By: Mooncrossed

_Wow… You would not believe how hard it was to write this chapter! Thankfully, with a lot of love, support, and prayer, it is now ready. This chapter is dedicated to God, who gave me the talent and inspiration to make this work. I'd like to thank writergurl616 for her review (Well… I wouldn't say she's just like him, being in a similar business tends to make a lot of similarities.), to Queenofthebloodmoon (Are you willing to pay one-hundred and fifteen Cybertronian credits, plus a ten percent shipping and handling fee? The book 'How to Care For Your Pet Grrbreazzzzrg' is a separate purchase. Just joking.), and to Mikoto-chan92 (She wasn't expecting the Angry Archer to actually be there, and he's a guy who knows a lot of her favorite tricks. Glad you like it!). I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, Robin Hood, The Supernova Nightclub (If such a place really exists), the Jolly Green Giant, or Christina Aguilera. _

_At the Supernova Nightclub…_

With a cloud of dust, the carved wood front door to the Supernova Nightclub was no more… along with half the wall. Startled screams rose up from party goers. Rover croaked in alarm and scampered away, curling into little green ball as he went. Straining to see through the choking dust cloud that obscured the air, Cassidy just hoped it was Swindle. A large streamlined shadow appeared. She held her breath. 'Please be a giant robot painted a nasty shade of puke green,' she silently begged. 'One with a smarmy grin and half a million catch phrases, please, oh please, oh pretty please.' The shadow moved forward, and…

"Halt criminal," the pre-recorded voice intoned stiltedly. A humpbacked black and white police-drone robot slowly rolled into view, followed by several dozen more. Their sightless aim just happened to be Cassidy and her captors. "You are under arrest."

Slumping in disappointment, Cassidy watched them slowly approach. It was the Detroit Police Department's latest attempt to beef up their numbers without actually having to hire new officers: Cybernetic Operative Police, or COP's for short. They were supposed to be faster, less prone to damage, and more expendable than their more human brethren. Cass and her friends had other, less flattering terms for them best not mentioned nearby any recording devices. Already, she could see one of it's many flaws in affect, they were having a hard time moving forward. Tables littered the path, as well as chairs… platters of food… the occasional distraught partygoer...

Casually, without a second thought, Slow-Mo lifted up her pocket watch like a talisman. Light streamed out of it and struck the lead robotic drones with a fierce burst of light. Sputtering piteously, they shut down. The other drones paused, downloaded this new obstruction, and found new routs around their immobilized fellows. "Halt," they chorused unemotionally as they raised up gun turrets. "You are under arrest. If you resist arrest, we will be forced to take hostile measures." Opening up her makeup case, the red-head made a show of checking her reflection to make sure her hair still looked perfect.

"Aww, Marette," Nino Sexton complained. He had crouched down to open up a black bag tucked under the table. Bracing himself, he lifted out a heavy jet-pack and began strapping it on over his tuxedo. "Don't hog all the fun, let me have a chance." That said, he adopted a smarmy smirk, and vanished. One second, he was standing next to Cassidy gazing down her cleavage, the next, he was gone. Mystified, the brunet looked around in confusion for a few minutes. It was only when she heard a juvenile taunt from the other side of the room that she saw him again, and her eyes widened. 'What,' she questioned silently. 'He's moving at super-speed?' Wondering if she'd hit her head on Swindle's dashboard one too many times, she studied the supercharged womanizer in disbelief, her eyes barely able to track him. With rapid blurred footsteps, he raced from one end of the room to the other, ripping out wires, destabilizing equipment, and going crazy. The guy was like a human pin-ball bouncing around the room.

"And me," Udella chirped with an adorable dimpled smile, her costume mask already firmly in place. With a hop, she climbed off of her booster seat and began rooting around in the bag until she pulled out a large stuffed toy pony. Opening up a hidden panel in it's neck revealed a keyboard that looked like it was straight out of NASA. After a series of typed commands, the pony abruptly bucked wildly, and slowly floated up into the air. Looking up, the seven year old noticed Cassidy's incredulous stare and giggled. "Oh, I made it," she explained with off-hand pride. "It was nothing really, just some of my Dad's spare computer parts from the garage and a few wires and stuff. I just felt so sorry for 'Powdered Sugar' when he told me he couldn't fly." She petted the stuffed toy as if to comfort it as she added, "It's not like Dad would ever notice, being all busy with work." Abruptly hopped onto it's back, she directed it to fly toward the COP mayhem.

Her mouth hung open as Cassidy watched as the thing flew up into the air, the small girl laughing maniacally all the way. Cass then winced as laser gun fire shot out of the toy horse's open mouth like a nightmare. Slightly sickened, she watched the small strawberry blond then gleefully attack the rest of the COP bots. "What kind of parent leaves lethal weaponry around?" Another explosion made her flinch. "Better yet, why isn't that kid in therapy?" Neither of her questions were answered, though, as the show was only beginning.

Even the Angry Archer got into the act, letting loose a barrage of arrows with explosive charges built into them. Cassidy stiffened slightly. Had the rope just loosened a little bit? Wriggling slightly, she found that she had a little more room to move around. Her gaze flicked left. His expression one of grim determination, the Robin Hood wannabe selected his next robotic target. The rope slipped just a little more. 'If I can reach that futuristic alien sword,' she mused, 'I just might be able to get out of this alive…' She jumped at yet another eruption of pyrotechnic glory, and squinted in the direction of the drone destruction derby across the room.

In a fiery light show more fit for an Independence Day celebration, the last COP drone blew up and the villainous gang cheered. Casually congratulating one another, they strolled back to their captive. Well… most of them. With a sudden flash, Cassidy was treated to an up-close view of Nano-sec. The brunet froze in mid-act at freeing one of her hands and locked eyes with the speedster. 'Oh great,' she unhappily realized. 'Not only did I get caught, but it had to be by a super-charged freak that wears spandex on the weekends.' For a long tense moment she stared into bloodshot blue eyes framed by a cheap Halloween mask. "BOO," he suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs. Letting out a startled shriek, she jumped back only to trip on the hem of her dress and fall down. Red faced, she glared up at the crooks as they all had a good laugh at her expense. "I've got to tell yah, Archie," Nano-Sec commented as he dragged the brunet back to her feet. "I really don't see how in the world this brat got the best of yah."

"She has a rather vicious kick," the Angry Archer stiffly informed him, making no effort to help. Raising one eyebrow above his mask, he sniffed disdainfully at the new nickname he had yet to dissuade his cohort from using. It seemed the man took great delight in coming up with childish nicknames for him. For a while he had been given the ignoble title of 'William Smell.' An arrow scant inches from the scoundrel's head managed to cease that foolishness rather quickly. He supposed he would have to come up with a different tactic of cruelty for this unwanted pet name as well.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Nano-Sec snorted. "Personally, I think you're getting rusty. Wouldn't you agree, Sweetheart?" Yet again, he bent down to get an up close and personal look at their prisoner, taking the opportunity to get another good look down her cleavage. Judging by the red-faced glare she was favoring him with, she knew it, too. He grinned, thoroughly unrepentant. 'Hey,' he mentally shrugged. 'If she didn't want people to look, then she shouldn't have worn such a low-cut dress.' Then her nose scrunched up, and laughing, he raced back to Slow-Mo's side. "Looks like she just discovered the garlic bread I had for dinner," he commented proudly.

"Ugh," Angry Archer spat, while raising his long nose haughtily. "Uncouth ruffian." A smattering of laughter from Professor Princess and Slow-Mo bubbled to life in the wake of his statement, and the Archer rolled his eyes. "What about our plans? We still have a robot to catch, do we not?" As he spoke, a shadow appeared in the tall starlit skylight behind him… one with an impossibly wide smile. With a shower of glass and falling masonry, a large glowing pink… something tumbled into the room. It was only after the haze of electrical energy faded away, and the robot opened his big purple optics, that Cassidy finally recognized him: Swindle. Shutting down his force-field generator, and what a lovely device to bring to a meeting, he looked down with his ever present grin firmly in place.

"Swindle," the red-head drawled. A slight return smile curled her painted lips as she looked the huckster over from his black painted helm to his filthy green pedes. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Wait a second." Nano-Sec sped around the room like a five year old on a sugar high, looking him over from all angles. Yet again, he was in Cassidy's face close enough make her eyes water. "This is the guy that kidnapped you? How did yah stay sane? His sales pitches are enough to convince a saint to commit murder!"

Before she could answer, the rope around her jerked her close to a rotund pot-belly, unknowingly loosening her bonds just a little more. "I dost not know," Angry Archer sneered, also put off by Nino's garlic breath. "But I do note that he is clothed in a most unflattering shade of green, rather like moldy cheese…"

Exasperated with all of the negative commentary, Swindle had finally had enough. "Alright, I get it," he complained, rolling his overly large optics. "I could have chosen a better armor color. Everyone has commented on it, now. Even Blitzwing! It's not like I've had much of a chance to change it." To the surprise of the assembled self-made super-villains, he actually pouted.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Cassidy shot a filthy sneaker out as hard as she could. She had one target in mind, and unlike with the Angry Archer, this kick was deliberate. Groaning piteously, Nano-Sec slowly sank to the ground while clutching a particular area of his anatomy in pure agony. Accusing glares focused on her from the assembled gang while Cassidy blinked back with carefully contrived vapid innocence.

Rolling his optics skyward as he vented out a harsh sigh, Swindle yet again focused on the matter at hand. "Now, getting down to business," he began, his voice as smooth as the finest oil. "Miss Slow-Mo, so delighted to see you again." A wide smile stealing across his face plates, he politely stepped forward.

The villainess in question froze in her sneaking attempt to slip out the stage-door un-noticed, mostly because she had to. It is somewhat difficult to get around a salesman's foot when it is blocking a door, even more so when it's bigger than an office desk. Spinning around, the red-head yelled back with the worst gangster accent yet. "Hey palsy, I told yah before! Yah ain't getting this watch! No way, no how, no where! Go back to your lousy space rock and get off of ours, see!"

Cassidy had to give her credit, not many people had the guts to be that openly defiant with a guy that was tall enough to act as a stand-in for the Jolly Green Giant. There was really only one thing she had against the lady villain's speech. "Lousy…?" Glancing down at the nearby speedster, she questioned, "Did she just call the Earth lousy?" She was harshly shoved in the back and barely kept her footing.

"Silence knave," the Angry Archer shouted into the seventeen year old brunet's ear. Cassidy winced both at the fractured Elizabethan accent and the volume. "Thy is in direct treachery to the crown!"

"Whatever that means," Nano-Sec wheezed from his curled up location on the floor. He was beginning to recover, judging by the way he managed to find the strength to roll his eyes at Angry Archer's posturing. Slowly, the speedster pushed himself into a seated position, all the while keeping a wary eye on their unexpectedly vicious prisoner.

Directing his attention to his erstwhile criminal co-worker, the self stylized Robin Hood explained, "What I mean, oh most fleet friend, ist her betrayal to her own kind. She is one of the poor afflicted by this most dastardly town of Detroit, yet she chooses to line her pockets with the ill-gotten gains of others in a similar state."

Staring up at him in pained disbelief, the speedster asked, "What?"

Angry Archer sighed heavily. Sometimes he wondered why he worked with such a dunce, yet similar causes did unite them often enough as brothers… "She is a thief, dear friend, as evidenced by her attempt to relieve the Lady Slow-Mo of her most prized weapon."

"Oh," Nano-Sec replied, comprehension finally setting in through the fog of old fashioned words. Then his face screwed up in annoyance. "Well, why didn't yah say so? Sheesh, speak English for once."

"But that ist precisely what I have been doing," the Archer complained, at his wits end. Then he noticed something out of the corner of his eye and groaned out loud. Their prisoner was gone, leaving a nice neat pile of severed rope behind where she used to be. Quickly looking around, he located the slippery brunet just as she was dropping down beyond some tables. "Halt fiend!"

"Hey, no problem, I'll catch her," Nino reassured, slowly climbing to his feet. Trying to take one step, though, caused him to double over in agony. Bow legged, he gingerly sank into a nearby chair, wincing. Bleary eyed with pain, he gazed after their rapidly disappearing 'rescued' hostage. "Then again, maybe I shouldn't… Give her one for me, Archie. I'll catch up with yah!"

At the overly dramatic shout, Cassidy had, of course, taken off. Undaunted, the archer raced after her. Under normal circumstances, he'd simply stand his ground and loose an arrow or twenty. He frowned imperiously as a member of the towns-people went by, dressed in a tailor made pinstripe suit. Unfortunately, with so many innocents about, and costly decorations besides, he felt it best to pursue the seventeen year old on foot. Now, if only he could catch the damsel properly!

Cass was having a ball, or at least, she would have been… "Stupid dress," she groused, as it caught on yet another tablecloth. It was trying to help, really it was! Recognizing that it's wearer was in danger, it had formed entire swaths of itself into a texture reminiscent of sharp porcupine quills. This made her impossible for the lunatic chasing her to grab a hold, but there was a downside. She swore when a spike on her thigh snagged another tablecloth and sent some expensive crystal dishes flying. 'Ooh, I hope I don't get billed for this… I bet it'll be a doozy!'

"Thee will not get away so easily," huffed the forty year old male in expensively embroidered tights. He didn't dare loose an arrow in such congested crowds such as these. Everywhere, townspeople in expensive garb were racing for the exits in a desperate attempt to escape the metal monstrosity. The Archer winced at the crash of yet another expensive tableware set, and increased his speed. Catching this fiend was swiftly becoming his top priority. If the corruption of the colonies would not bring this girl to see justice, then he, the Angry Archer, would do so for them.

Abruptly, Cassidy saw a chance and took it. Grabbing the edge of the stage, she hopped and twisted, expertly sliding across the floor. Fiercely grinning, the brunet slowed to a smooth stop. Her theater teacher, Mrs. Tannon, really hated that move, considering it unprofessional. This, naturally, only encouraged her more. Unfortunately, she hadn't anticipated anything being in the way. Two music stands, a tuba, and a trumpet crashed down around her. 'Oops,' she winced to herself as several layers of sheet music drifted down around her. A harshly whispered British curse brought her back to the present, however. She quickly got to work removing the only weapon she had.

Leaping up to the stage floor, the Angry Archer arrived to witness a shocking sight. There his quarry stood, scattered sheet music all around her, and a glinting metal sword of some such lifted in challenge. Multiple sharp edges decorated every inch right down to the hilt, as if it was a bladed snowflake of wrought steel. In hushed amazement, he mumbled, "What manner of weapon ist this?" As if in response to his query, the girls dark gown seemed to glisten and shine, blowing fiercely in a non-existent wind behind her. He backed up as the blade lengthened, sharpening as it went, until it resembled a serrated rapier.

Sheepishly frozen, Cassidy felt the flap of living material straining for the backstage exit with heartfelt enthusiasm. She knew why, oh, how she understood. That's where she wanted to go, badly. Unfortunately, that would leave the entire time-piece situation unresolved, and Swindle wanting to hunt her down in all sorts of unpleasant ways… So, right, she was sticking around. As for the sword, well, she didn't know it could do that! What if it had decided to lengthen while it was strapped to her inner thigh? Hadn't she tied it on blade side up? Shaking her head, she ordered herself to focus on the present. At the not-quite-sane look her opponent was favoring the living gown with, she blushed. "I, er… It was made in Europe?"

Raising one eyebrow snootily over his black costume mask at her obvious lie, the Angry Archer assumed a very familiar narrow stance, one that looked extremely professional. Sure enough… Reaching into the quiver on his back, he withdrew a long, extremely sharp fencing blade. With it brandished aloft, he declared, "En guard, fiend!"

"You've got to be kidding me," Cassidy moaned to herself. The next instant, blade crossed blade, and they were fighting. This wasn't like a friendly match with her brother, though. It wasn't even like the imaginary battles she'd taken up since he'd left. As fights went, this was a no holds barred, ram it through your ribs, death match! 'Why me,' Cassidy wondered, even as she desperately attempted to keep the loony's sword as far away as possible from her person. Desperately trying to keep track of the rules, she was forced to mostly fight by instinct. Sweat beaded her brow. 'What did I do to deserve this?'

_Simultaneously, on the other side of the dance floor…_

Swindle did his level best to ignore the commotion of brunet versus villainous lackey. He was currently in the middle of an extremely tense standoff with a very volatile organic femme. Smiling wider, he tried another tactic, "Really, Slow-Mo, this would be so much easier if you'd just cooperate… Why do you want to keep it so badly, hmm? Aside from making thievery that much easier, I can't see why it's so important. Now, I happen to have right here, a lovely little weapon that would be just perfect for an organic in your line of work. It's compact, easily adjustable, and can be used in just about any volatile situation. So I propose a trade, my lock-pick five-thousand, for your…"

"No way, pal," the red-head snapped, narrowing her jade green eyes. "This is my property, see! And you've got no right to it!" She fingered the ornate alien enhanced pocket-watch strapped securely to her belt. Since she had lost it, the villainess planned to go to great lengths to make sure that it wouldn't be taken from her again. Steps such as wearing it at all times, using a special high tech tracking device, and others.

Cat-slit purple optics studied that same bauble warily. Part of the appeal of that cute little weapon, was it's easy use. A sparkling could use it. For a human, it would be as easy as pi! Therefore, he kept his force-fields primed and in constant use, despite the drain. In order to grab it, whether by tractor-beam or good old fashioned servos, he had to lower his shield. There was just a slight problem with that. Testing her, he allowed it to flicker off for a bare instant.

Noticing the abrupt lack of humming technology, Slow-Mo immediately let loose a beam of debilitating energy from her time-piece. Neither flinched as the energy blast bounced harmlessly off of the Decepticon's just as swiftly erected shield. Swindle tilted his head, his ever present smile firmly in place, waiting for an opening. Unblinking, the lady super-villain eyed him back. He blocked the only exit on this side of the room. There were others, but nearly half were buried in rubble, and the main one was beyond an obstacle course of shattered dishes, broken tables, and chunks of masonry. It was a treacherous journey in high heals, especially with an opponent she dared not turn her back on. Dead silence filled the room as the pair waited for an opening in this little stand-off. Apparently, they both had all night.

"But I really must insist," Swindle pleasantly continued. "Is it a name issue? Because I happen to have a number of weapons that slow down opponents like magic. My Glue-Master two-hundred, for example. It comes with a money back guarantee, and a handy training manual, only nineteen-ninety-five, plus shipping and handling…" Okay, so technically, it was a youngling toy, but he figured that what the organic didn't know wouldn't hurt her. He stiffened as a small warning light flashed to life in the corner of his optic. 'Attention,' it read. 'Force-field integrity destabilizing due to low energy… Powering down in ten, nine, eight…' With his optics wide open, the Decepticon looked down at Slow-Mo, or more importantly, the weapon she held in her small fleshling hands. Then he was a flurry of motion. Diving behind a grand piano set up in the far corner, he upended it and lifted it sideways just as his shield powered down. A paralyzing beam of energy slammed harmlessly into the makeshift barrier seconds later, making him wince.

_Meanwhile…_

As nightclubs went, the Supernova was in need of serious restoration, at least, that was Optimus Prime's opinion upon seeing the building with two gaping holes in it. The periodic energy beams occasionally scorched the night sky was also a big tip off that something of a non-organic nature was going on. Advising caution, Optimus transformed to alt-mode and carefully peered inside. Swindle was the first enemy sighted… cowering behind an upturned grand piano? Large purple optics glanced back at them, flinching from the brilliance of a stray energy blast coming from… 'Oh, Holy Primus,' Optimus realized, his optics brightening in shock as he recognized the small organic. "Slow-Mo? She's supposed to be in prison," he exclaimed, glaring down at Prowl in accusation.

"Obviously," the Ninja-'Bot concluded even as he transformed, "She escaped."

Optimus sighed before attempting the impossible. Clearing his vocal processor, he called into the partially demolished organic eatery in a vain attempt to restore order. "Attention all organics and Decepticons: cease and desist or we will be forced to take action…"

"DIE YOU ALIEN RUST BUCKETS," Slow-Mo shrieked at the top of her lungs before firing wildly in all directions. Her hair was in disarray, her dress was torn, and the lovely evening out with her gang of loyal followers was now ruined. She had a right to be a little angry. At least, that was her justification for firing off a machine paralyzing device at anything that moved.

"Hit the deck," Ratchet exclaimed, tackling the nearest 'Bot (in this case, Bulkhead), out of the line of fire. Once behind some broken set scenery, Ratchet took a moment to scan his surroundings. Optimus was outside, having chosen to use the wall itself as a shield, Bumblebee was behind a heaped up pile of wood tables with Sari, and Prowl was clinging to the buildings scaffolding. The only Decepticon in the room was where he had last seen him, hiding behind the piano. All-spark infused energy bursts zapped against a nearby cut-out of jungle scenery and he ducked back out of sight. "Either Prime or Bumblebee," he muttered to himself, readying his electro-magnetic pulse generator. "It's a toss up on which one would be empty-headed enough to gain the attention of a glitched out, anger driven little…"

"Now, just calm down," Optimus attempted, yet again, only to duck down again as another half dozen energy bursts slammed into the bricks where his head had been a moment ago. Then he saw the weapon Prowl was withdrawing from one of his compartments and he held up a servo. "NO! Don't harm her, she's obviously not in her right mind!" Hearing his words, the organic in question let out a wordless scream of pure fury, firing off a fresh barrage of weapons fire.

Swindle flinched as several stray shots came dangerously close to hitting his parts before casting an ironically amused glance toward Prime's hiding place. "Nice try friend," Swindle called back in Cybertronian. "But do you mind if I take over the negotiations? I just might have a little more experience at it than you."

"Um, no offense," Bumblebee commented from behind a now scorched table-top. "But we don't accept help from Decepticons!" Sari chorused her agreement with this statement and the yellow 'Bot grinned. Then everyone cringed. Fresh zaps of stray energy fired here, there, and everywhere without any set pattern. An overhead light flickered out, casting eerie shadows all over the room. The yellow 'Bot sank lower, and mumbled to Sari, "Well, usually we don't…"

Prowl, meanwhile, was observing a very different battle. He'd never seen such grace, natural talent, or fluidity before. Hanging upside-down from the ceiling, he was the only one capable of seeing the battle ensuing upon the raised stage floor. Cassidy barely slid out of the way of a descending blade before she could get beheaded. Quick as a striking scavenger, the curly haired organic lashed out with a streak of steel. The clang of metal meeting metal reached his audios, while the reflection of flashing weaponry gleamed off of his blue visor. 'It is so savage,' the Circuit-Su warrior reflected admirably. 'Like the display of organic natural selection at work. Never have I thought that I would witness such a display anywhere except on a vid-screen…'

The weapon that the object the organic was using, though, was rather…unorthodox. He dreaded to know where she had gotten it. As Cassidy danced and twisted, barely avoiding the impact of each deadly slash and parry of the Angry Archer's blade, the Autobot mumbled to himself, "Fascinating." Then he barely ducked in time as a stray energy beam hit the wiring for the surround-sound music system of the nightclub. Dead silence drenched the room, with only the main CD system playing. Amazingly enough, this sparked an argument that had all the Autobots blinking in confusion.

At the first clang of metal on metal, everyone looked up. Alien faces twisted in horrified disgust, unable to look away. Swindle, however, was the first one to find the use of his vocals. His purple optics widening in shock, he demanded, "Cassidy, where did you get that?" Every mech, both Autobot and Decepticon, winced at the next crash of weapons with mingled empathy. An abrupt energy burst from Slow-mo reminded the huckster that he had his own problems, yet that didn't stop him from flinching at the next several clashes between the miniature duelists.

"I inherited it from a maiden aunt," Cass yelled back, lying through her teeth. Most of the nightclub patrons had gotten the message and left, though a few lingered on, hiding behind decorative pillars and serving carts. This, coupled with the echo-chamber effect of the room, made sound travel easily. She didn't bother to look at the robot cowering behind the grand piano, mainly because she was trying to avoid getting gutted by the Angry Archer. Barely deflecting a sword thrust aimed for her stomach, she was forced to take another step back. 'The wannabe is better than I thought,' she mused, feeling sweat bead along her collar. Abruptly ducking, she barely avoided a swift beheading, before aiming a slice at the bastards tights clad thigh. 'What kind of moron trains a complete loony on how to fence? Isn't there a law against that somewhere?'

"Give it back," Swindle yelled in no nonsense tones right back. Noticing with his sensors that Slow-mo had paused in her attack, he took a chance and cautiously peered over the top of his makeshift shield, only to duck back down again as a fresh barrage of light sizzled the air where his head had been. _Frag-it! If only my slagging force-field generator hadn't decided to fritz out again!_

"What," she squawked, daring to give the Decepticon an incredulous glance. This nearly earned her a swipe that would have easily split her down the middle if she hadn't brought her sword to bear in time. Launching a new series of parries, she forced the Angry Archer down the stage stairs, before glancing back up at Swindle, "You're serious?" At his answering nod, she growled before attacking the Angry Archer with a flurry of slashes and thrusts. "Argh! That is just like you, too! You'd leave me unarmed against this lunatic in drag…"

"How dare thee, thy uncouth…," Angry Archer began angrily, only to hop back again at an abrupt sword thrust.

"Aw shut-up," the brunet snarled at the Angry Archer, viciously stabbing at her opponent, before continuing her tirade against aliens, robots, and males in general. "As I was saying," she yelled pointedly back at the coward behind the piano, "You'd leave me open to attack, all for one lousy sale! I just know it!"

"Look, kid," the huckster interrupted in placating tones. Becoming aware of the fact that Slow-Mo was beginning to circle around his makeshift musical shield, he began countering her movements. He knew what she was doing. If he'd been in her position, it's what he would have done. She was trying to trick him into leaving a clear path for the only viable exit. Noticing one of the few tables left standing, he used one servo to shove it in her way just as she tried to make a break for it. A broad, triumphant grin spread across his face-plates as she staggered to a halt. Resuming his conversation with Cassidy, he called back, "If it gets chipped, I'm going to have one very fragged off customer."

"Who?" Not pausing in her fencing, because the lunatic she was fighting wasn't stopping, she didn't bother to pay much attention to the conversation. Violently, Cass stabbed at the Angry Archer's protruding middle. "I mean," she yelled back to the huckster in this ludicrous excuse for a conversation. "It's too small for one of you guys to use as a sword… What? Does it shoot lasers or something?"

"Well, er, on that count, I'm really not sure I should…(Clang, stab, clang, clang) I mean, I'd rather not say." He flinched at another ringing peel of metal striking brutally against metal. And now Slow-Mo's associates Nano-Sec and Professor Princess were attempting to escape while their leader was otherwise occupied. Watching out of the corner of his optic, he observed the pair slip out through the gaping hole in the wall behind him. 'Talk about a bad move,' he reflected with an ironic chuckle. 'Did they, or did they not notice the Autobot standing just outside? The escaping duo abruptly let out some surprised shouts, followed by the academy drop-out declaring that they were under arrest. Focusing back on the organic that had had the gall to steal from him, Swindle began in placating tones, "Look, I…" (Clang, clang, swipe, clang) Loosing his temper, his vocals jumped several decibels louder as he shouted, "Just GIVE me the fragging thing, already!"

Flinching at the abrupt full volume blast of outraged robot, pained tears instantly spurted from Cassidy's eyes. She knew who had done that. Only one robot had the ability to decimate her hearing that badly with one sentence: Swindle. Vowing revenge in all sorts of inventive ways, the brunet glared daggers across the room toward the owner of that voice. For the moment though, all she could do was attempt to recover. The Angry Archer was in a similar state of agony, except he couldn't tell where the source of the noise had come from. All he could do was keep his gloved hands over his ears and hope they would stop ringing.

That was when a sword flew with twisting majesty, and buried itself up to the hilt in the wooden floorboards half an inch away from her left foot. "Aagh," Cassidy shrieked in surprise. "What the…?" Looking up in alarm revealed the source of that thrown weapon: a tall, thin, wraithlike robot hanging from the rafters. The psychotic robot that had been hunting both herself and Swindle since this whole farce had started was right above her! Swallowing hard, and making a conscious effort to step away from the sharp object that had almost killed her, Cassidy decided it might be a good time to move. Who knew what the crazy robot would throw next?

Quirking an optic ridge, Prowl watched the miniscule organic's face noticeably drain of color. This was followed by shivering. That was extremely odd behavior, and the ninja-Bot frowned in puzzlement. The object she was using for a fencing weapon was flawed in many ways. It was brittle, multi-jointed, and too unwieldy, surly she knew that? So, since he had her blade stored on his person, it was only proper to give it back. _What a strange organic_, he silently mused as he watched her back away from the weapon as if it might bite her.

Focusing on the huckster, she began running his way. Anything but that Psycho and his idea of a rescue! "You know what? I agree completely," she announced to Swindle in blaring agreement. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the skinny alien in the rafters wasn't following, but the Angry Archer was. She picked up speed. Now running full tilt toward the still hiding robot, she continued, "I just have one little addition to this reimbursement plan of yours."

"Oh, really," Swindle dryly replied, a skeptical look in his optics. Yet there was also an inkling, a sly recognition of what she might be planning. He could see the Angry Archer raising his rapier and beginning to follow.

"Sure," she yelled back, well aware of the Angry Archer hot on her heals. "A trade! I'll give yah my lunatic in exchange for yours!" Feeling something sharp and pointy brush against the small of her back, she put on an extra burst of speed as she ordered, "Duck!"

Instinctively doing just that, he flinched his optics closed at the itchy sensation of little rubber soled organic pedes race over the back of his helm. Looking up, he was just in time to see the tiny organic use his arm as a bridge before launching herself over the top edge of the overturned piano. Slow-Mo didn't know what hit her. One second she was wincing in agony from the verbal backlash of an alien that didn't know how to use an indoor voice, the next, she was being tackled head-on by a teenaged ball of fury. Her chicken squawk of surprise was quickly replaced by shrieks of outrage. The cat-fight of the century had now begun!

Angry Archer skidded to a halt in his pursuit after his quarry, as what he had assumed was a darkened hill abruptly rose. Positively enormous purple cat's eyes larger than he was tall flickered open. Then they focused down on him with an expression he could only describe as predatory amusement. The self-stylized super-villain's eyes widened, and the hand holding his trusty rapier became limp. Swallowing hard, he backed up, turned, and ran. He didn't get far. A loud, very familiar explosion rocked the ground out from under him, and crying out in alarm, he fell into the basement down below. Right before he went unconscious, he mumbled, "I dost truly hate that child…Ugh…"

One thing about this cheaply made organic construction, one good punch could easily create a handy hole. If a mech aimed it just right, he could create a long crack in the concrete, just perfect for taking the ground out from under an organic. Lifting up a dust covered servo from the floor after having made exactly that kind of hole, he offered a boyish grin to the surrounding Autobots. "What? He's still alive," Swindle protested cheerfully. "Just scan for yourselves." Still amused, he set down his impromptu shield and focused on Cassidy and Slow-Mo, or more specifically, the pocket-watch that had fallen haphazardly next to them.

Using a tractor beam, he quickly took possession of it before the Autobots could get any smart ideas. He watched as Optimus Prime's crew, who had begun to come out of hiding, now tensed while glaring at him. A few readied their weapons. "Oh, Cassidy," Swindle prompted in a sweetened tone of voice after a moment.

"Yeah?" Cass grinned at the angry shriek that Slow-Mo let out when she kicked a manicured hand. The brunet finally managed to roll back on top. Then it was all nails and pulled hair, not that Cassidy cared. Long used to rough-housing in all it's forms, she dove into the fight with gusto.

"Slow-Mo doesn't have the time-piece any longer…," the Decepticon hinted, as his large purple optics took in the swiftly changing battle scene. Unfortunately, his force-field was still down, making him a very easy target. If they wanted to take the time-piece from him, he might need a handy hostage… He just didn't want her wrestling partner at the same time! Warily, the huckster kept the pocket-watch at the ready.

"So?" Her mind was entirely focused on her own personal battle. Cassidy had no problem biting, kicking, and general all around viciousness. Hey, for her, it was a childhood game she'd played with friends all her life. Jerking up a clump of red hair that just happened to have a face attached, she aimed a fist only to cry out in surprise when Slow-Mo's long manicured claw-like nails raked down her arm. "Youch!"

"Therefore, she's no longer a threat," Swindle clarified. _My weapons are still fragged_, he realized with a sense of annoyance. Still, he began splicing together systems, hoping to get at least one thing up and running. All around, glowing blue optics came closer. The big red and white medibot glowered while raising mini-blasters from his forearms. A yellow 'Bot with black stripes armed some electric stingers. Another, much larger one armed what looked like a servo mounted mace. Let's not forget the energon bladed axe belonging to the only Elite Guard in the group. Considering the company he was keeping, he wanted to have as much firepower as possible.

Snorting derisively, Cassidy commented, "Got that right…" Bracing herself on the ground, she dug her knee into the older woman's stomach. Slow-Mo let out a pained 'Ooomph,' before yanking on the teenager's hair.

Rolling his optics at her playfully stubborn attitude, he explained, "Then, you can let her go…" Now Swindle was tapping a pede in annoyance while still keeping a wary optic on the Autobots around him. "Cassidy…," the Decepticon warned, an engine rumble on the end of his words.

She looked up at him with a vapid, openly blank expression that was entirely affected, a struggling villainess slowly losing oxygen in her arms. Then the proverbial light bulb seemed to go off. "Oh! Okay! Why didn't yah say so?" With that, she abruptly dropped her opponent, letting gravity take care of the rest. Slow-Mo's forehead met the carpeted concrete flooring with a harsh thud, and moaning piteously, she fell into unconsciousness. Climbing to her feet with a strut to her movements, Cassidy shook her head. "Can't believe that woman. Thinks screaming and flashing her nails is all it takes to win a proper catfight?" Snorting softly, she began to brush herself off.

"Is it just me, or are they behaving more like an old married couple," Sari whispered to Bumblebee. She'd been told that Decepticons were the worst of the worst… but this was weird. It almost reminded her of her friendship with Bumblebee. She blushed as the brunet flashed a rude gesture Swindle's way. 'Well, it would be, if I was like twenty times ruder,' she thought, scowling. Then she blinked in amazement when Swindle only rolled his optics in exasperation and shook his head. 'Shouldn't he have stomped on the kid or blasted her to smithereens?' Judging by the surprised expressions on everyone's faceplates, she decided that they probably agreed with her.

A sudden blast of endless noise drowned out any further words. Squinting, everyone looked around in confusion and no little worry as the building around them began to shake. Already recognizing this style of introduction, Cassidy looked around for cover. One of the few patrons that hadn't had the sense to leave screamed as the roof up above cracked like an eggshell. Sure enough, two minutes later, a tall, blue and tan robot slowly hovered to the ground. Scanning his surroundings carefully with his optical sensor, Blitzwing powered down the jet turbines on his feet. Cass breathed a sigh of relief, slowly taking her hands off her ears, only to pause. Now that there wasn't so much eardrum shattering machinery filling the room, it became more than apparent that the sound-system was still working. An overly forlorn voice sang into the stillness, "_What a girl wants."_ Blitzwing took one shuddering step forward. "_What a girl nee-eeds_," the pre-recorded musician sang. The robot refocused his gun turret, taking aim. "_Whatever keeps me in your arms, and I'm thanking you for giving it to m…_" Vanishing in a brilliant explosion of machine-gun fire, the last remaining speaker sputtered into silence.

Re-aiming his shoulder mounted gun turret, Blitzwing took out a polishing cloth and began idly cleaning his right servo. "Since zat is now taken care of, I believe ve should get down to business." His visage abruptly rotated to reveal an outraged second face. "Like zat fragging timepiece," he shouted, his optics glowing a brilliant fiery crimson.

"Not on my watch," Optimus announced in Cybertronian, his axe glowing with a brilliant destructive light. Rising like an avenging angel, he glared at Blitzwing and Swindle. Ratchet growled as his weapons online with a crackle of electricity. With quiet menace, Prowl removed half a dozen throwing stars. Bumblebee primed his stingers with a sharp zap, and Bulkhead extended his wrecking ball. Cybertronians all around instantly tensed for the battle royal of the century. And in the center of this pending war zone?

Cassidy stood frozen, lost in the throws of childhood memories. Back when she was in kindergarten, she had always wanted to go to the big kid's playground. It was much cooler than the one she had to play at, with a giant slide, twice as many swings, and monkey bars that rivaled your average sized inner-city apartment. The chain-link fence had been easy to traverse. After that, she'd discovered it wasn't as much fun as she'd thought. Everywhere she walked, all she could see were huge feet and legs stretching up higher than she was tall. Unable to understand a lot of what people were saying, she had been virtually ignored. Now, in a blasted out nightclub, surrounded by giant metal pedes and towering armor clad legs, Cass was having a revelation. She was back in the big kid's playground! 'Right,' the brunet nervously mused, listening to the unintelligible warble of alien languages above her head. 'So, how do I get out of here?'


	29. Chapter 29

Confidence Game

Chapter 29: Watch Your Step

By: Mooncrossed

_Whoops! Sorry about the long wait, guys. Real life decided to visit with half a dozen emergencies, then this was followed by the site being down, a short stint of writers-block, and my Pop telling me I needed to rewrite the chapter. So, sorry again. I'm just praising God that I've managed to get it up on screen! Many thanks go out to Writergurl616 for her review (Yep, they'd probably be pretty shocked about what she's managed to get away with. Any other 'Con would have probably slaughtered her after the first annoyance.), to Mikoto-chan92 (A catfight, a piano, and a good old-fashioned robot brawl. Some combinations are just too amusing to pass up. Happy I made you laugh!), to Queenofthebloodmoon, (Glad you enjoyed the catfight as well), to XxMenasoraboutxX, (Thank you. Hope you enjoy the chapter.), and finally, to lillambdragon (Suspenseful? Author is now blushing. Thanks for the compliment) I don't own Transformers, Mitsubishi, Robin-Hood, or gatling-guns. _

_!n what used to be the Supernova Nightclub…_

Dropping to the floor at the sudden flash of machine-gun fire, Cassidy cursed for the thousandth time against robots and their oafish ways. Once the way was clear, she climbed to her feet and continued on. Up ahead was a giant gaping hole in the wall big enough to drive a truck through. That was her exit, if she could survive that long. Pausing a moment to allow huge clanking mechanical feet to thunder by, she took a moment to catch her breath in the choking dust.

Things hadn't gone well when Blitzwing had arrived. For one thing, the giant cackling maniac had decided it would be the most amusing thing in the world to open fire on the Autobots… the ones that were surrounding them. With the way now clear, she resumed crawling forward over broken crockery, spilled food, and splintered wood. "Just once," the brunet grumbled under her breath as she carefully stalked through the noisy darkness. "Only once, is all I ask. Let them make a smart decision. But nooo. Instead of using their brains, they have to use their guns, all for one dinky little pocket-watch. Stupid robots."

She barely bit back the scream that threatened to claw it's way to the surface as she barely managed to dodge a heavy robotic foot. Her heart hammering, she watched that huge mechanical appendage lift off and disappear into the shadowy depths of what used to be a nightclub. Now it was a war zone. Through the near dark, she could see flashing weapons going off with deafening blasts and the glow of red and blue electronic eyes. Oh, don't get her wrong, it wasn't completely pitch black. There was still the occasional florescent light that valiantly attempted to remain lit. This lent a certain… romantic glow to what would have otherwise been termed a complete disaster. After a shaky breath, Cass swallowed hard and resumed her journey… and her complaining. Anything to stave off the terror that threatened to make her curl up pathetically in some corner.

As she traversed heaps of broken bricks, splintered wood, and shattered glass, Cass had time to reflect on certain philosophical subjects. Topics such as: the fact that she was seventeen and fighting for her life. Quietly grumbling to herself, she continued under her breath, 'Since when does a kid in America have to worry about this kind of thing? I mean, I don't even live in the inner city! Technically, I should be home free on avoiding an actual battle!' An abrupt whine reached her ears that she had grown familiar with over the past thirty minutes, that of a high speed alien missile. She dropped heavily to the ground. Seconds later, an explosion lit the dark in brilliant florid colors, giving her a brief glimpse of how the world really looked.

Giant robots stood or flailed with limbs akimbo and weapons upraised. Mechanical mouths gaped open in silent screams of rage and terror. Then, everything was as it had been before: all encompassing chaotic shadows. Rubbing the sting out of her eyes, it took her a moment to notice the pair of huge blackened metal hands reaching out, fingers outstretched on either side of her. Shouting in alarm, Cassidy jumped, and using one giant thumb as a spring-board, flipped out of reach. Landing on the filthy concrete, she raced to the other side of the room and didn't look back.

Bumblebee swore as the organic he was reaching for used a surprising amount of agility to slip though his servos. 'Oh, well,' he reflected. 'Better luck next time.' Noticing a cowering human in a black and white waiters uniform, he scooped that one up instead… along with the serving cart the organic had been hiding behind. Tumbling and fighting in his efforts to escape the giant hands holding him, the man chattered angrily all the way. "Hey," the yellow mech cheerfully protested. "It's alright! I'm trying to get you guys out of the line of fire!" Dumping both the human and his serving cart in a rough pile together on the pavement, he shook his head. "Sheesh, what a grouch." Spinning around, he raced back inside for more. The waiter, meanwhile, slowly sat up with a groan of pain. Metal platters lay all around him and spoiled food covered him from head to toe. Then the paramedics and news reporters were all over him, chattering questions and checking for injuries.

Staying hunched over, the small yellow Autobot clanked back into what looked more like a laser-tag arena than a real battle. It was sort of fun… but Optimus was right, it was too dangerous for organics. Carefully scanning the room for that small dark yellow human in the black dress, he instead noticed Slow-Mo lying unconscious under an overturned chair. Rolling his optics in annoyance, he nonetheless grabbed the villainess. Then he blinked. 'Oh, yeah,' he realized. 'I forgot about that guy!' Diving across the debris littered ground, he came to a perfect stop right at his target: a giant crack in the ground. Squinting, he peered into the building's basement, all the while wishing he could activate his headlights. Considering how dark it was, though, he didn't dare.

A sigh huffed out of his vents. Despite his best efforts, he just couldn't see anything down there. So, grimacing, he activated his infra-red. Streaking by with sudden brilliance, a missile almost blinded him. He shut his optics with a Cybertronian curse. That was why he hated using this visual mode. Still mumbling about all the things he'd love to do to Blitzwing for starting this battle to begin with, he peered down into the basement. There, in the far corner, was a slight pulse of heat. Bumblebee grinned, switched back to normal vision, and reached down into the hole.

More weapons fire tore up the building, even as Ratchet did his level best to keep the support beams along the roof intact. Optimus barely deflected another missile with some thrown debris, before looking in the small yellow Autobot's direction and frowning. His best scout was lying face-down on the ground in the middle of the battle-field with one servo shoved into the ground up to the shoulder joint. "Bumblebee," he shouted. "Stop goofing around! If I wanted you to loaf on the job, I'd have ordered it! Now get your aft over here!"

"Okay, okay, just wait a click! Oof," Bee grunted softly, reaching deeper into the basement. "Almost got it…" His glossa stuck out of one corner of his mouth in concentration as he strained to reach what his sensors had located. That was when one metal finger nudged against something warm and soft. Bumblebee's optics brightened. "Yes! Gotcha!" Pleased, he drew the Angry Archer out, and with two super-villains now safely cupped in his servos, he raced out of the building. Dumping his find on the pavement, the alien turned and raced back into the building, unaware that one of them was beginning to wake up.

"Gnnngh," the Angry Archer moaned, an unhappy expression coming over his aristocratic features. "The most shocking head-ache is attacking my temple." He blinked, as he realized the reason why he couldn't move was due to a woman lying prone on top of him. What's more, he recognized her! Scandalized, he exclaimed, "And ist this the Lady Slow-Mo draped across mine legs in such an unbecoming fashion?" It was while he was puzzling over this surprising turn of events that a policeman happened to look, and recognizing them, sounded the alarm. In seconds, the Robin-hood wannabe found himself surrounded by half a dozen drawn guns, and no arrows to defend himself with. "Forsooth….," he muttered in unhappy surprise.

_And inside the nightclub…_

Laughing maniacally, Blitzwing launched himself at Swindle. The sales-mech was doing his best to hold his own while waving his arms in a placating fashion and blaring cheerful robotic nonsense. His words were cut short when he found himself lifted partially off the ground by one hand… the one holding the pocket-watch. Momentarily distracted, Cass watched open mouthed as the much bigger alien shook Swindle around like a dog. Loudly protesting the treatment to his person, his feet dangling over ten feet above the ground, and a rare frown descending over his faceplates, Swindle did not look pleased. What the red-eyed robot planned to do from there was anyone's guess. Perhaps he'd planned to pry the huckster's servo open, maybe he was just going to fly away with the purple mech in tow. As it was, it didn't matter. With a wild war cry, Bulkhead dove on the pair and grabbed the huckster's trapped fist.

The result was three giant robots doing a weird reinterpretation of the tango. Swindle's large purple cat's eyes blinked in stunned disbelief as he got dragged first one way, then the other. On one side was a growling, hissing triple-changer. And on the other? Hydraulics straining, bellowing a mixture of English and discordant saxophone, the large green Autobot pulled with all his might. Fixated, Cassidy observed the cataclysmic struggle between Swindle and the other two combatants while they vied for one innocent little pocket-watch.

Abruptly, there was a burst of light that made everyone flinch. In stunned amazement, Swindle and Bulkhead watched as Blitzwing abruptly toppled over backwards. The floor collapsed underneath him, caving in part of the roof and causing the tables that hadn't been destroyed yet to shatter. Paralyzed at mid-cackle, the Decepticon laid there incapable of movement under a pile of rubble. Their optics wide, looking like a pair of guilty sparklings, the huckster and the Autobot looked at one another. "Oof," exclaimed the much larger 'Bot as he was rudely shoved away with a surprising burst of strength from the business-mech. Unfortunately, this seemed to galvanize the other robots to action. Arming weapons, and letting out strange alien war cries, they rose up out of hiding like a cataclysmic wave.

And in the very center of all this was Cassidy… apparently forgotten. Crouched behind an off-kilter broken table, her heart hammering, she looked to the left at the thunderously approaching blue eyed brigade, then to the right at Swindle. On one side were giant spinning saw blades, Paul Bunyon's axe, and ray guns of every shape and description. Wild eyed, she swung her head the other direction. In slow motion, Swindle lifted up a suddenly glowing pocket-watch. 'I'm in the middle of a freaking war zone,' the brunet internally screamed, beginning to hyperventilate. At that moment, while looking from one battle-line to the other, she had her epiphany.

"WAIT," she shouted, running out into the open and waving her arms around like a lunatic. "Time out! Hold it!" Nervously pausing, Cassidy realized that her ludicrous interruption had actually worked. All around her, robotic glowing eyes looked down on her with nothing short of surprise. A blush stole across her face and fought for dominance over the ghost-pale Goth makeup on her skin. Fighting an unexpected bout of stage fright and praying desperately, she offered up her golden solution. "W-why don't yah just buy it from him?" Stunned expressions now dominated every alien's face. Since nobody seemed to understand, she tried to explain it further. "I mean, yah could out-bid what's-his-name, couldn't you?"

"Megatron," Swindle absently corrected her, even as his expression grew thoughtful. Stroking his chin, optics steadily considering the Autobots before him, he considered the matter. A slight smile twitched to life as he examined the possibilities.

"Whatever," she mumbled back on auto-pilot. Her attention was entirely too focused on the Autobots to even pay attention to anything like weird foreign names. Anxiously, she eyed first one killing machine, then another. She watched as electric blue optics blinked in confusion while they glanced at one another. Cassidy held her breath. Now a few were looking skeptical, while the rest seemed thoughtful. The seventeen year old crossed her fingers for luck.

At last, Optimus cleared his vocal processor and looked down at her. In slightly apologetic tones, he explained, "We… don't really operate by a capitalist based system." Nods of agreement were echoed from the other assembled Autobots even as weapons yet again rose for combat.

Slumping unhappily, Cass groaned, "It figures."

Still, Swindle was quietly speculative, until with an abrupt easygoing shrug, he announced, "Oh, why not? The time-piece isn't in Megatron's servos, so it's technically still up for grabs." Activating his headlights, he paused at the stunned expressions dominating the room. "What?"

"You'd sell out your own side," Bumblebee abruptly squawked in disbelief. All around, the Autobots activated their headlights as well and analyzed Swindle as if he was glitched. Ratchet shook his head, more than halfway convinced the Decepticon was lying.

Backing up a pace, Swindle raised his servos disarmingly. "Hey, hey! I'm not on anybody's side! What you're looking at is someone who's a business-mech first and foremost. As long as you supply the credits, I'll be more than happy to sell you the goods." His optics glowed sales-floor lavender even as he smiled. "Provided, that is, if you can offer a higher amount."

Dead silence met this statement, and yet again, the Autobot's looked at one another. "Um," Sari began hesitantly. "How much did Megatron pay?"

"Oh, nothing much," Swindle drawled, favoring the tiny organic youngling a mile-wide grin. "Only one-thousand and forty-five credits…" At the startled gasps he was greeted with, the huckster aimed a shrewd glance toward Optimus. "Of course, if you can't pay…"

Obviously on more familiar territory, Sari inquired, "Do you accept American money?" Even though her father was missing and she didn't have a home anymore, it didn't mean she was helpless. 'I mean, please,' the nine year old derisively reflected. 'I've got half of my Dad's Swiss bank accounts memorized and his top best sales representative used to baby-sit me! This'll be easy." She pouted in surprised disappointment at the Decepticon's answer.

"Sorry, kid, I don't swing that way," Swindle apologetically grinned. "Your paper money is about as useful to me as old gum wrappers are to you." Brightening once more, he eagerly considered each of the five 'Bots in front of him. "Now, what do we have for the opening bid? And I warn you, it needs to be a higher amount than what Megatron paid. Any less would be wasting my time."

Silence met his statement. Hesitant glances flashed between the assembled Autobots. The Decepticon waited expectantly, looking from one metal visage to another. At last, one of the Autobots spoke. "I hate to tell you this, but… We don't know how to do that." Looking embarrassed, the other's gazes flickering here there and everywhere.

Big purple optics rolled toward the ceiling, and Swindle vented a harsh sigh of exasperation. "I hate working with amateurs… Okay, fine, I'll make this easier for you. If you can raise at least twenty-two thousand and two hundred credits, you get the time-piece. Any less, and I'm closing up shop."

Bumblebee, rubbing his helm in embarrassment, muttered, "I… don't really save my soldier's stipend. All I've got on me right now is five credits, so I don't think it'll do very much good to…"

"Any amount is useful to the cause, Bumblebee," Optimus Prime assured the younger mech softly. "And we'll talk about how to manage your credit balance later." Focusing on Swindle, he cleared his vocal processor and announced, "I'll add seven-hundred and twenty-three credits. A peaceful solution is worth pursuing, no matter the cost."

"That's the spirit," the huckster enthused. "But you still have a ways to go… I don't suppose you might be holding back just a little." He aimed a knowing smile toward the red, white, and blue Autobot.

After a moment, Optimus sighed, wondering if he was dealing with a financial vampire. "Alright, ten credits more," he intoned while rolling his optics. His engine rumbling, he muttered in Cybertronian, "And I wanted to upgrade to that energon sword, too."

"Cha-ching!" Cass jumped and looked around in confusion. Everyone in the nightclub, both robotic and human, behaved as if the sound that had just rung her eardrums was a perfectly normal occurrence. Wincing at yet another jarringly cheerful jingle, she gradually zeroed in on the sound and looked up. The teenager's eyes widened. There Swindle stood, the drawer to his other dimension wide open in his chest. He babbled something jovially in robot-speak while pulling out a truly gigantic gleaming metal sword. Optimus shook his head gravely and replied in that same disharmonic language right back. Not at all daunted, the huckster dropped the weapon back into the drawer with another cheerful 'Cha-ching!'

Cass blinked, lost in a mixture of disbelief and embarrassment. Only one thought permeated her brain as the language of discordant electric guitars and out of tune saxophones continued to blare above her, 'I was kidnapped by a walking, talking, super-powered cash-register?' She shook her head to dispel the thought. 'No, no, no. I was not held hostage by something like that! He's an alien, end of sentence! Anything else would damage my reputation to the point of no return!' Blinking rapidly, she focused back on the sale just as they decided to slip oh, so graciously, back into English.

"Well… uh," the largest mech in the room grunted hesitantly. Bulkhead's green painted face heated up in embarrassment at all the people staring at him. "I could toss in sixty credits… I think." Shifting slightly on his huge pedes, he bashfully gazed at the ground.

"Terrific," Swindle exclaimed, snapping a servo. The Autobots in the room gave him weird looks, but it was nothing compared to human reactions. Clapping her hands over her ears, Sari mumbled in Hindi while she did her best to keep from falling off of Bumblebee's shoulder. Cassidy, on the other hand, was a whole lot closer to the epicenter of that rifle-shot of clanging metal fingers. Reacting as if she'd been slapped, the brunet jerked away. With mumbled expletives about robots and their insensitive ways the brunet walked several feet away. The huckster looked toward the others in silent puzzlement, who looked equally clueless. At last, he shrugged and decided to ignore it. "So, who's next?"

"Seven hundred and eighty-two credits," a cultured voice abruptly announced. Any and all noise ceased as 'Bots everywhere looked at the motorcycle in stunned disbelief. Swindle looked about ready to bust a facial seam, he was grinning so hard.

"Where did you get that kind of cash," Bumblebee at last exclaimed. He was having a difficult time closing his mouth after a revelation like that. "And what are you doing hanging out in this dump when you could be treated like royalty?" Prowl didn't answer, merely raising an eyebrow and staring back at him emotionlessly.

"Music to my audios," Swindle exclaimed, all the while filing the information away for future reference. "Fantastic even! But you're still a few credits off. Now, I'm still willing to deal with you fine upstanding mechs, but you have to work with me here. Does anyone have anything further they'd like to donate to the cause?"

In anxious silence, every person in the room, both human and Cybertronian, looked at the one remaining 'Bot who hadn't said anything. Ratchet looked left. Bumblebee, Sari, and Bulkhead gave him pleading looks. Then to the right; Optimus, and Prowl gazed at him with imperious impatience. Directly in front of him was a Decepticon brimming over with greed, and a small teenager with desperation in her eyes. Slumping, the medic groaned, "There goes my retirement." Team Autobot sighed in relief while Swindle's smile grew even bigger, if it was possible. Another cash register sound jangled in apparent victory.

'Yes,' Cass silently cheered, pumping her fist. In a state of dazed euphoria, she watched a very willing huckster shove the time-piece into the metal hands of the robot painted like an American flag. Startled, the big guy fumbled the tiny pocket-watch, barely catching it before it could go off. The next instant, his free servo were encased in an overly friendly handshake.

"A pleasure doing business with you," Swindle enthused, professional acumen and oily charm oozing off of him in equal measure. "Honestly! We must do this again some time!"

"Y-you know," Optimus began, stuttering with the force of the unexpected handshake. "It wouldn't take very much effort for you to switch sides. Become an Autobot…"

"What?" Swindle drew back with a practiced laugh even as he moved on to his next victim. "An old cyber-dog like me? Hah, hah!" Ratchet was the next recipient of some good old-fashioned schmoosing, along with a friendly clang as Swindle slapped him on his armored back. "And you sir, you've been so helpful, I'll be sure to put you on my mailing list!"

"Must you?" Ratchet cast a jaundiced optic toward the smarmy sales-mech, which was completely ignored.

"Thank you, thank you," he insisted, all smiles. A massive green pincher claw was pumped enthusiastically, followed by the futile evasions of a small yellow Autobot. _What is his name again? _Swindle internally puzzled over this, before deciding to look it up later. When the merchant reached Prowl, he hesitated.

'Good,' Cassidy snorted to herself. 'For a few seconds, I thought the euphoria of his most recent sale had shut off his computerized brain.' Then the breath caught in her throat. Wide eyed, she watched him not only talk to the psycho robot, but step in extra close. 'Is he insane?'

Leaning into the psycho's personal space with a wide grin, he purred conspiratorially, "Tell me friend, what name do you go by?"

"We are not friends," the cyber-ninja stated, his face as ever, inscrutable. "And… It's Prowl."

Beaming that hundred-watt smile of his so fiercely it made the room collectively flinch, Swindle moved on. Finally, with all the last minute glad-handing over with, the Decepticon retreated to a far corner of the room. He had some long distance calls to make, and it was always fun to bask in the fruits of his labor. The Autobots, meanwhile, began to assess damage control, scan for survivors, and clean up the general mess.

Cassidy could hardly believe it. As of now, the time-piece belonged to the good guys, Swindle wasn't out to murder her for betraying him, and she had actually survived! Here amidst shattered furniture and crockery, she experienced the first true relief she'd felt in days. It was wonderful. The brunet would have curled up and fallen asleep right there if it wasn't for the threat of one of these clumsy robots accidentally stepping on her. Slowly, she trudged across the room to where Swindle was busy doing whatever giant death machines did in their spare time. "Hey," she commented with a rueful grin. "I know they're going to reserve a little white padded cell for me even as I say this, but I just have to ask: Are yah going to be okay?"

Brilliant purple cat's eyes and the widest smile she'd ever seen were turned in her direction, accompanied by cheerful beeps and whistles. "Are you kidding? I've just sold the counter technology to Megatron for three times it's intrinsic value! I'm a made mech!" Thoroughly pleased with himself, Swindle turned back to fiddling with the wires in his arm without a care in his processor.

Frozen in disbelief, Cassidy stared. Nerves jangled together at those overly cheerful words. Suddenly, she understood perfectly well why Blitzwing acted the way he did. She felt like congratulating the moron with a smack upside the head, too. A migraine began building with pounding insistence in her poor abused brain. He'd done it, he had really screwed over the guy who'd sent an insane lackey after him due to a misunderstanding. And he'd double-crossed the Autobots, making them buy a now useless weapon! Heaven help him for what was going to result from this little fiasco. "Do me a favor, Hon," she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And leave me out of this one."

Unfortunately, someone else had heard Swindle as well. Someone who's pocket-watch infused paralysis had just worn off. "Vhy you little…? Aargh," a German accented voice suddenly roared, making human and Cybertronian jump in surprise. With glowing red optics, Blitzwing rose up out of the debris he'd been buried under. Oh, he'd heard every word. Now, not only had he wasted his time, Swindle and this annoying little fleshling had made him look incompetent in front of all of Megatron's army! Wordless with rage, he aimed every weapon he had on the small arms dealer, fully prepared to obliterate him.

_This is it_, Swindle realized with a fatalistic air. _I'm not going to survive this one._ Doing his level best to convince his torso mounted gatling-gun to at least attempt to arm itself, he inwardly sagged, knowing it was already too late. Blitzwing already had his missile launcher, his freeze ray, even his Concussion-Master Three-Thousand (with an eon-long battery guarantee or your money back!), all of them armed and ready to fire. Maybe he could at least dent the blowhard's armor before he was sent to the smelter. So, while a fleshling clung to his left pede in terror, and the rosy glow of half a dozen killing machines reflected on his armor at point blank range, the arms-dealer desperately fought to activate at least one working weapon. _Just my fragging luck my force-field decided to quit on me now, _he thought unhappily._ My only regret is that I wasn't able to make one more sale… _

Priming weapons flared to life in front of his face, and Swindle flinched his overly large purple optics shut, expecting pain, pain, and still more pain… Only to open them wide when Blitzwing went sailing backwards across the room in a cataclysmic fireball of suppressed fury. The triple-changer didn't even have the luxury to scream as he was relocated helm first into the organically constructed stage and the brick wall beyond it. With majestic finality, a cloud of dust rose up and gracefully coated the downed mech.

All these events took mere moments to play out in all their violent display. Swindle stared. His processor attempted to interpret the data his optics had recorded and failed miserably. Ten seconds went by as he sluggishly tried, yet again to analyze these events, and this time managed to come up with a halfway intelligent query. _How…?_ Information obediently flashed into existence on his HUD, providing number displays and high energy-low maintenance specs for a weapon he had never even heard of before. Another ten seconds ensued. The 'Con-mech's still shocked processor rebooted again, before filing an another eloquently simple question. _Where…?_ Slowly, his chin dipped, following the schematics provided by his sight map, until he spied his gatling-gun array. At least, that was what it was supposed to be. Instead, there was a weapon that was so futuristic that it looked alien, even to him! Before he could attempt to examine it, however, it began to change. In a matter of milliseconds, metal twisted entirely under it's own power, parts folded down and vanished, until what was presented before him was a perfectly ordinary top-of-the-line gatling-gun.

To his horror, the 'Con realized that all the special technical specs on that priceless beauty had melted away like bronze in a lava flow! He couldn't find them anywhere, no matter how many files he frantically searched through! _Alright, focus,_ Swindle coached himself, feeling like pulling his cranial wires out in frustration. _How did this happen? I just had a power surge, along with an EXTREME weapons upgrade. Logically, this would be in keeping with the incident this morning, because, even if I never saw the schematics, I had a weapon deploy and fire off that I've never encountered before. But, what could be the connection between the two? _

"What the frag?" Swindle flinched at the overly loud exclamation, before turning his helm to regard the Autobots, who were all standing there staring at him. Bumblebee, finally metaphorically picking his jaw up off the floor, demanded, "Where did you get that…that…" The yellow mech gestured toward the broken and bleeding Blitzwing, for once at a loss for words. Everyone else stared, also demanding an answer. That kind of firepower amongst the Decepticons was frightening to think about. Rattling around their processors was the thought, however brief, that they had been facing that sort of instant off-lining throughout the entire struggle for the pocket watch. Why hadn't he done what any other 'Con would have done and blasted them away? They were Autobots after all. Instead, he'd used it against Blitzwing of all mechs. Something just didn't add up.

Assuming as insulted an expression as he was capable of, Swindle went with the first lie that entered his processor. Prissily, he declared, "It's still in the testing stages, thank you very much. And I refuse to put my seal of approval on any product until development and dependability are reassured. Now, if you'd like to be put on the reserve list of future buyers…?" He gave a hopeful smile to the assembled Autobots, who looked guardedly back. At last, Optimus hesitantly nodded. This seemed to do the trick toward convincing the other mechs to drop the subject, leaving him free to focus back on the main problem. Questions like: _What was it, where had it come from, and how do I get it back?_ Pausing a moment, he puzzled over the conundrum wracking his processor, only to freeze and look down. There, clinging weakly to his pede, was Cassidy. His optics widened at the theory that suddenly popped up in his mind, before they narrowed thoughtfully. Clearing his vocals, he casually asked a question that was more of a statement, "You're tired, aren't you?"

Sarcastically, Cassidy mumbled back, "Ugh… guess." Talk about feeling awful. On top of experiencing extreme exhaustion, her ears were ringing from the sonic abuse of a fully loaded alien weapon going off over her head, and she was drenched in enough sweat to be declared a saltwater habitat. In other words, she needed coffee, aspirin, and a bath, in that order. That was when an electrical field blanketed her body from head to toe with instant hair frizzing, static-clinging force. "Alright, alright," she yelped. "I'm fine, okay!" Shivering, Cassidy pulled away from Swindle's big fat robotic foot, and barely kept from falling over. As the painful sound of shrieking bells slowly faded from her ears, the brunet grumbled, "I swear I'm going to go deaf if this keeps up… If yah wanted me to move, all yah had to do was say so, yah crazy robot!"

Too busy studying the readings he had gathered, Swindle did no more than hum in reply. _The fleshling appears to be perfectly useless in every reading_, he mused speculatively. _Except on the lowest spectrum. I wonder…?_ Readjusting his sensors, he looked in Cassidy's direction and ran that same series of scans.

"Yow," the brunet exclaimed in startled surprise as another dose of electricity zapped her hair on end. "Alright, alright, I'm moving," she exclaimed. Glaring up at the smarmy alien that had shocked her twice, she stomped away cursing under her breath. 'How would he like it if I decided to zap him,' she wondered corrosively. 'Lousy, freaking bastard!' Once she was what she deemed a safe distance away, Cassidy slumped. She was feeling horribly drained from the most massive adrenaline rush in history. But only a moron would stand still for more of that kind of abuse. He might decide to accidentally (on purpose) stomp her next.

When she finally mustered up enough strength to lift her head, it was to see an overly focused huckster staring at her. "What?" Cassidy backed up a pace, feeling a distinctly disquieting feeling. As he continued to stare, she surreptitiously glanced to the side and grimaced. The nearest door was a good five minute sprint, and that didn't count the debris in the way. Still, she edged a little further away. Sensing her nervousness, the dress began writhing around her body.

"Huh," Swindle abruptly blurted. He blinked, seemingly coming back to himself and gave her a puzzled frown. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Relaxing slightly, but remaining wary, Cassidy began, "Yah looked a little… I don't know… dangerous?"

Open surprise came over his features before he let out a hearty wheeze of alien laughter from his vents. "You silly femme! I was conducting a long distance call with one of my associates. The slagger owes me big for a favor I did for him a couple of vorns ago and he was reluctant to pay up." Venting out a few more chuckles, he proceeded to look himself over for battle damage.

"Oh, that's a relief," Cassidy exclaimed, letting out a shaky laugh. Deciding it was a pretty good idea, she also began looking herself over for stray cuts or bruises. After all, she had been in a pretty fierce fencing match. A lot of serious injuries could happen when excitement was high. 'And considering that.' the brunet mused, 'Man am I tired.' She yawned sleepily, not noticing the shrewd, calculating glance Swindle aimed her way. It was a predatory gaze, one more suited to a cattle-auctioneer about to step out on the sales-floor. When she looked back, however, the expression had vanished as if it had never existed. The brunet blinked before realizing that the huckster was talking. "Huh? Did yah say something?"

Rolling his optics skyward, the huckster groused, "You know very well what I was saying! Now hand over that dress!" He watched her begin to slowly wander away. "I'm not kidding, Cassidy. If I take that dress back, it will be very painful."

"Keep your shirt on," Cass grumbled. At last locating a tablecloth that wasn't as smeared with wine and other unidentifiable stains, she tugged it free. "Call me a prude, but I'd rather not give you and every other guy in the room a free show. Now… I don't know, go do something robotic and give me a little privacy."

Glowering purple optics shone down on her with a slight smidgen of greed hidden in their depths, watching as she ducked behind a support pillar. "That reminds me," he began speculatively. "It has recently come to my attention that a certain organic of my acquaintance has been using interesting language parameters when describing me and… Are you even listening?"

"Considering that you were the guy that broke my prized picture window?" She paused to peer out at him from around the pillar, one eyebrow raised. Waiting a beat to let him dwell on the full impact of her words, she chirped, "Nope." Redoubling her efforts, she attempted to push the squirmy ball gown down again. It didn't want to leave, climbing up her body like an insistent snail. 'Ugh,' she silently groused, even as she squirmed some more. 'This is ridiculous!'

"Alright," Swindle exclaimed with affected annoyance as he crossed his arms. "Fine! Next time I kidnap you, I'll use more finesse! Happy now?" With that, his lower lip poked out in the worlds biggest pouting session.

Unaware of the honesty in his words, she favored him with an unimpressed hangdog glare. Going back to work on her clothes, she rolled her eyes and muttered, "Men." That's when a small green ball came tumbling into view, making a bee-line for Cassidy. It rebounded off of her sneaker, unrolling as it went. Then shaking his frills out, the grrbreazzzzrg hopped up to her and proceeded to bathe the nearest shoe. "Rover," she exclaimed with a laugh. "Stop it, I'm trying to change clothes here… And, you never know, it might go faster if I had my survival pack with me?" She peered around the corner at the giant voyeur of an alien that was listening in. Gusting out a sigh and rolling his expressive optics, Swindle reached into his subspace dimension. Seconds later, a somewhat chewed up pink duffle-bag thumped into existence, making Rover squeak and roll into a ball. "Thanks."

"Now hurry up with that dress," Swindle declared, tapping a pede.

"I am, okay," she protested. "It's just a little reluctant, that's all." Deciding that the best method of changing out of the living gown was to put her jeans on underneath the skirt, she began to do just that. They were nasty, more suited for the trash bin than anything else. Her eyes widened as the gown developed a mind of it's own, stretching toward the grunge-wear in her hands. She paused. The dress loosened a little, slithering slightly along her arm. Dropping the pair of pants in alarm, she watched fascinated as the black and silver alien dress crawled off of her body and fell in a heap on the rumpled denim. Continuing to stare, she grabbed her only remaining tee-shirt and sweatpants in rapid order. After a moment, she voiced the question that she almost didn't dare to ask. "What's it doing to my jeans?"

Swindle peered around the corner, located the now human-free dress and snorted. "Refueling, what else? It's a bottom-feeder, kid. Cleaning dirt and parasites off of living organisms is what it does."

"Okay, so it's in good company then," Cass quipped. "I guess I shouldn't expect to get that pair of jeans back then, huh?" No answer was forthcoming, and she blinked, looking around. The giant robot wasn't there anymore. Her forehead wrinkling, the brunet warily peered around the corner of the pillar she was hiding behind. Nary a stray thumping footprint, a flash of purple cat's eyes, or a smarmy remark remained. He had vanished into thin air. After a moment, she realized that though there were Autobots milling around, there was no longer a prone Blitzwing lying unconscious and partially cooked upon the ground. Looking back at the pile of rumpled alien dress, ripped up jeans, and fruppy all snuggled up together, she confirmed that the Decepticon hadn't retrieved his property. She blinked, more than a little nonplussed. "How…?"

Sudden flashes of red and blue light, accompanied by the piercing tweet of a police whistle interrupted her question. She flinched at the abrupt arrival of the boys in blue, before making a rapid decision. Quickly scooping up the pile of aliens, she stuffed the whole lot of them in her duffle-bag and zipped it up tight. Then, with her survival pack slung over her shoulder, she reluctantly stepped out into the open to meet them. The question of why Swindle had left so abruptly was easy to answer. If she was in that much trouble with the cops, she'd take off too. As she was surrounded by police and paramedics, she had to wonder, how had he managed to get out of the area so sneakily.

_Several blocks away in a darkened alley…_

Satisfied with his work, Swindle at last closed the small panel in the side of Blitzwing's helm. His smile widened. It had taken a lot of work, and more than a few threats, but he had finally managed to convince Knott to do a teensy little favor for him. Transporting not only him, but his reluctant fellow Decepticon via satellite and a long distance energy beam took a lot of power. Now, here they were in a distant back alley with no witnesses to the memory tampering he was performing. Reaching out a claw, he depressed a special, barely noticeable button just under the mech's helm. Red lights flickered on and the prone triple-changer groaned out loud, "Ugh… Vhat happened?"

"You, my friend, are one lucky mech," Swindle intoned, as he busied himself with putting away his welding equipment and taking out other supplies. "Why, if I hadn't happened along, you'd be languishing away in a prison somewhere. Hold up you're left arm please."

The larger mech groaned, tired of hearing the sales-banter already, yet too sore to force him to shut up with a well placed fist. His core processor buzzed, attempting to piece together fragmented memories. "Zere… Vas zere a battle?" He blinked pained red optics down at his 'rescuer' in confusion.

"Was there a battle?" A practiced sales-rich laugh echoed out of Swindle's vocals. "Of course there was. Why do you think you're so banged up? Fragging Autobots did a terrible number on you, obviously." He held up a section of armor from his inventory, scrutinizing if it was the correct size for the triple-changer. At last deciding it would do, as long as he modified it a little, he began working on the piece with his equipment.

"Obviously," Blitzwing echoed, feeling too worn out to question him further.

"There," the 'Con-mech enthused with a wide grin. "Let's see, that was two new missile launchers, some replacement armor, and a quick patch job over you're main fuel line… Oh, don't worry about payments, Megatron already took care of the bill! Now, let's get you back to the base. I've got a lovely new invention I just sold him and you're going to love it! Force-field emitters that are designed to switch on whenever an energy beam is incoming… Isn't it fantastic?"

Swindle would have grabbed the human before, but there was the little problem of there being so many witnesses. It was just for the best if he let things cool down for a while. Besides, he preferred doing research on a new weapon, something he was certain that Cassidy was. Still chattering animatedly, the huckster slowly led his groaning companion away.

_Meanwhile, back at the supernova night-club…_

Exhausted, but triumphant, Cassidy finally got to have what she considered the perfect reward for a job well done, a full cup of coffee. Sitting on top of the medical gurney that some nice thoughtful paramedic had left out, she idly observed the going's on as she sipped her drink. The so called super-villain gang had been carted off to jail before she'd gotten outside. 'Too, bad,' Cass mused lazily. 'It might have been funny.' Five or six government agents were on the scene… but eh, what could anybody do about that? Still, she kept her duffle bag close by. The last thing she needed was Rover and the dress getting dissected for 'The good of the Country.' Lousy bastards. Just as Cass was taking another sip of caffeine, a pair of white gloved hands unexpectedly loomed into her field of vision and made her instinctively jerk away. Then she blinked. A medic in hospital scrubs looked back at her in puzzled surprise. "Oh, sorry, pal," the brunet apologized. "I'm still a little tense."

"I just wanted to see your head wound," the young man kindly explained. At her puzzled frown, he motioned to his own temple by way of demonstration. "Even though cuts around the face and scalp tend to be mostly superficial, you should still have it checked out."

Putting a hand up to her left eyebrow, she felt a warm sticky sensation. When she drew her hand away, it was coated in a lot of blood. "Oh, I guess in all the commotion, I didn't notice…" At his concerned look, she explained, "It was from the catfight, not the aliens." He didn't seem to look as if he believed her, so she let it slide. Instead, he reached forward and began cleaning the side of her face with a damp cloth. Sighing, she set her coffee down and waited for him to finish.

With grizzled time-worn features, Captain Fahzoni (otherwise known as 'Fanzone' thanks to a misspelling of his name early on in his career) observed a very rare outcome to one of his cases: a happy ending. A slight smile quirked up on his perpetually frowning face when the medic flicked on a thousand watt lamp to see her injury better, despite her protests that she was fine. "Typical Nulte," he muttered, reflecting that her grandfather had been pretty much the same way. Digging out his cell-phone, he dialed a familiar number and waited for it to be answered. The receiver on the other end was picked up before the first ring finished. "Toby," he began. At the affirmative on the other end of the line, he pronounced the best news he'd had all year. "We've got your daughter." This, naturally spurred a thousand questions, one after the other from both parents. They were many and overlapping, but the basic gist of all of them could be summed up with the phrase, "Is she alright?"

"Stitches?" At the outraged feminine squawk, Captain Fahzoni glanced back toward the girl in question. She sat on the gurney as far out of reach as possible, an expression of horrified shock on her face. "You've got to be kidding me! It's just a fingernail scratch!"

Chuckling, the police captain replied, "She's driving the paramedics crazy, what else?" Relief buzzed through the receiver, followed by slightly less panicked inquiries. "The kid looks a little banged up, but no worse than she would for one of your crazy family vacations. You've raised a tough one, be proud." Now three paramedics were involved in Cassidy's examination, two to restrain her, and the third to check for injuries. Recognizing the signs, Fahzoni began a mental countdown for the moment she was going to loose her temper. Cassidy let out a sudden screech that was ninety percent anger and he shook his head, musing, 'Yup, right on time.'

"No, Gina," Fahzoni replied to a different question. "The perp got away. Yeah, I wish we'd caught him, too." At the next request, the older man quirked up an eyebrow and looked back at the crash-cart. Now the number of medical personnel had increased to half a dozen. He thought he could recognize a flailing dirty sneaker. There were also five more paramedics approaching to assist, and one of them had a small hypodermic needle. Taking the phone out of his ear, he shouted to the steadily growing dog-pile, "Hey, Nulte! Get you're butt over here! Your folks want to talk to yah!"

"Erragh," a muffled voice grunted amidst all the struggling bodies, followed by a string of frustrated curse words. "I'll be there in a minute," she yelled back. "Oof! Get off of me!" General consensus was that the poor seventeen year old girl had been horribly abused by that Decepticon, and it would probably take years of therapy to help her to recover. One of the medical workers went to get another dose of thorazine.

Shaking his head ruefully, Fahzoni raised the phone back to his ear. "Never mind," he at last told them. "Something tells me that this will take a while."


	30. Chapter 30

Confidence Game

Chapter 30: Aftermath

By: Mooncrossed

_Happy Mother's day, folks! This took a lot of work to crank out, with many revisions. My pop is really getting tired of reviewing my work, so I need to find a new editor. (Since the computer and all things connected to it are borderline magical to me, I probably won't be getting a Beta reader any time soon. Sorry.) Many thanks go out to writergurl616 for her review (Yup, Cass isn't out of the woods yet, and her family will be pretty surprised), and to Mikoto-chan92 (Thank you for the compliment. Hope you caught your bus on time!) I don't own Transformers, Elvis, or Terminator. _

_Two weeks later…_

"I don't understand," Optimus stated. Gazing across the vast warehouse they were using as a base, he observed the small adolescent organic dragging an oversized denim duffle-bag. After they had finished rescuing the human youngling, he had assumed they would never see her again. Apparently, he had thought wrong. It was past midnight by this planet's rotation, with Detroit's streets all but deserted. So it was startling, to say the least, when the government agent had arrived with Cassidy Jane Nulte in tow. Focusing back on their unexpected visitor, Optimus questioned still further. "Why do you need us to take her? Wouldn't she be better off with her family unit?"

"Isn't it obvious," the man drawled, sneering slightly as he lowered his sunglasses. In an expensive suit and patent leather shoes, Agent Reuben Simmons might have been an impressive sight… if he didn't look so young. This was his first major assignment since he'd been accepted into the service. Part of his placement, he knew, had to do with his family's long involvement with the alien issue. His great-great-grandfather had been there when the first non-biological entity (otherwise known as 'NBE One' was dug out of the ice in the Arctic. Great-Grandpa Simmons had been in Roswell during that unpleasantness, while Grandpa Reginald spearheaded the chaos of the Mission City incident. Dad's moment of glory came in the Cincinnati Disaster thirty-five years ago, where he'd saved over two-hundred people in a classified incident that had almost taken his life. Now, it was his turn, and he was determined to make his family proud. Gazing up at the alien he'd been assigned to watch, he continued, "She knows too much. If one alien abducts her, all the others are sure to follow. Our only solution is detaining her in a maximum security bunker in an unknown location. Except, now that you're here…"

"We can protect her," Optimus finished with a sigh.

"It is the most humane option," Reuben agreed with a falsely conciliatory nod. The agent aimed an evil warning glance at the teenager he had 'escorted' into the base. Noticing she was being observed, she stopped rubbing her bruised shoulder and glared back. 'Oh, she's a tricky one,' the agent mused. 'But most criminals are.' He had read her file thoroughly from cover to cover, everything from psych-profiles to family records. Frankly, the aliens were welcome to her. All he had to do… was observe. "Of course, we would prefer if you reported any updates in her progress," he continued, affecting a worried, caring expression. "What she went through was such a traumatic experience, after all…"

"Of course," Optimus agreed, straightening abruptly. He slid a glance toward the organic in question, who was currently wandering around the room like a lost cyber-kitten. She was also, he noted, doing her best to avoid drifting too close to any Cybertronians in the room. Bumblebee let out a victory cheer as his basketball team scored another point on the television and the tiny femme flinched at the abrupt noise. _My kind did that_, he mused, feeling his faceplates heat up in shame. Turning toward the organic government official, he vowed, "We won't let anything happen to her."

Cassidy ducked as one of the Autobots, a small yellow one, abruptly jerked his arm back in hissing victory. Deciding to relocate to a new area before she could receive any sports related injuries, the brunet continued her exhaustive search for a bed. 'The aliens are… interesting,' she thought sleepily. With an overstuffed brand-new military issue green duffle-bag slung over her back, she wandered around aimlessly past concrete furniture bigger than she was tall, flickering florescent lights, outdated industrial machinery, and futuristic devices of unknown purpose. A fight abruptly broke out between the giant green robot, who was a whopping three and a half stories tall, and his comparatively tiny twelve foot tall yellow painted friend. Apparently, the argument got a little out of hand, because the next thing she knew, 'Shorty' was being thrown screeching through the air toward a solid concrete wall. This was followed by a sound that was oddly reminiscent of a car crash of epic proportions.

Their leader gave the robot next to him a pained look before going back to trying to convince the organic in the fancy suit of their good intentions. The older looking robot sighed as he slowly trudged toward Shorty, who was in the process of yelling Cybertronian words reminiscent of an angry electric guitar as he climbed to his pedes. He didn't notice the medic until it was too late. With casual violence, the elder alien clunked him over the head like a caveman selecting a mate. Squinting in confusion, the brunet watched the yellow robot stagger with a fresh dent in the back of his armored skull. They traded more warbles and whirs, the little guy sounding slightly whiny and the more grizzled looking one growling. Cassidy blinked, suddenly realizing that not only had they suddenly stopped talking, but that they were staring at her. 'Right… So, moving on,' she nervously mused as she quickly found a new location. It wasn't any of her business what giant aliens liked to do, especially when looking nosy might get her flattened.

An electronic ring sounded from her jeans pocket, and grateful for the distraction, she dug it out. Her parents had insisted she begin carrying it, despite her protests that it wouldn't even last a day. It was probably her dad. Ever since her abduction the man couldn't go an hour without calling her, despite her protests that the stupid thing was probably already bugged by the government. If it wasn't her Pop, then it was her Mom, or her brother Kit… One eyebrow quirked up at the name displayed on the screen even as she flipped it open. "Hey, Weaz, how's it hanging?"

"MAN," he exclaimed back loudly enough to cause electrical feedback. Wincing, Cassidy held the phone away while she put her duffle-bag down. In a more normal tone of voice, the blond continued. "I can't believe yah got abducted by aliens!"

"Just one alien, Weaz," she drawled, feeling a smirk growing on her face.

"And you're alive," was the sneak-thief's next exclamation. "I'll bet they took yah up to the mother ship and cloned yah. Oh, God, I can't believe it! Did they implant anything, did they take yah to another planet? They did, didn't they?"

"WEASEL," Cassidy shouted into the miniscule mouth-piece in an effort to calm him down. Looking up, she blushed. Everyone, both human and alien, was staring at her. Sheepishly, the seventeen year old waved before quickly walking away. Bringing the phone back up to her ear, she hissed quietly, "Listen, nothing happened… or at least, nothing like that happened. There was no mother ship, no experiments, and no implants!"

Now sounding horribly disappointed, he asked, "There wasn't?"

"Rolling her eyes, Cassidy groaned, "No, Weasel, there wasn't. And before yah start: No, I never asked him if they took Elvis. Now if you'll excuse me…"

"No, no, wait," the blond begged. "I really am glad you're okay, honest. Even if yah didn't get any souvenirs…"

"Well," Cass drawled, glancing to the side. In her duffle-bag, a small green face peered up at her, one with a slimy tongue. A long black dress sleeve drifted out of the opening as well, wriggling and curious. Wary of a certain agent catching a glimpse, she subtly pushed both aliens back out of sight. "I wouldn't say that… But later! So, did anything happen at home?"

"Um," he fumbled, at a loss for words. "Oh, Kali is going to have her fourth set of kittens! We just found out this morning from the vet because she was eating a lot and acting all sluggish and moody… Hey! Do yah want a pet…?"

"Bye, Weaz," Cassidy exclaimed, hurriedly hanging up. Don't get her wrong, she loved cats, but if the blond had half a chance, he'd make her adopt the whole lot with his 'poor me' routine. 'I've really got to find an immunity to that whine,' she reflected as she put the phone away. 'Oh, well.' Her cell phone rang again, and groaning, she dug the device back out of her pocket. A smattering of Japanese flowed over the line, and the brunet grinned, recognizing this particular masculine voice. "English, Kit, English. Do not start a language war with me at three in the morning."

"So, Cass," her brother began, sounding somehow serious and teasing at the same time. "Getting settled? Or are they all rubes?"

Fighting back a snicker, the brunet shushed him. "Keep in mind that these guys are artificial alien life-forms, AKA, walking talking super-computers. They're probably listening in like this is a normal conversation." A high feedback noise pierced the earpiece, making her flinch. She glared in surprised consternation at the offending cell-phone, before cautiously bringing it back just in time to hear his answer.

"Weeellll," Kit began, his deep voice laced with amused mischief. "In that case, remember last summer when we were watching that exclusive interview on the six O'clock news? The one with that giant robot you swore looked like the wrong end of a monkey's…"

She covered up the mouthpiece before he could continue and warily looked around for some seriously peeved aliens. Thankfully, everyone still seemed to be behaving normally with three aliens trying to placate a bossy governmental spook and Shorty and Big Green sitting side by side on the giant metal couch. "Awww," she murmured to herself. "They've made up…" When the yellow one turned to give her a curious glance, she decided it would be best to move on. Lifting the phone back to her ear, she interrupted, "If yah wanted to play hardball, Bro, all yah had to do was ask. I seem to recall an incident involving a spray can and an unconscious silver winged robot we found in…" At his hurried interruption, she grinned wickedly. "Pax?"

"Pax," he agreed with a relieved sigh. "Sorry about the late hour on your end, but it's the only time I'm allowed to call with my work schedule. We've been getting a lot done around here, and I have great co-stars. In fact, we've been able to use a lot of historical locations for the movie, like…" As he began giving her a quick rundown of all of the awesome tourist spots he'd visited, both in Tokyo and elsewhere, Cassidy felt her mind begin to wander. Kit paused in his soliloquy of the wonders of Japan to accusingly inquire, "Did you just yawn?"

"Mmph, no," Cassidy lied, taking her hand away from her mouth. At his return scoff, she conceded, "Alright, maybe. Give me a break. I've been interrogated by the USA's finest, had three interviews with cut-throat media hounds, and nearly got smothered by our parents over the past two weeks. I'm dog tired."

"Right," he agreed hesitantly. An unnatural embarrassed quietude settled over the other end. After a moment, his voice came back, the heart of honest remorse. "Cass, I…"

"Don't say it," she warned, instantly filled with a dose of guilt. She had done her best to hide how much this upheaval had affected her, and all it took was one lecturing remark from her brother to make some of her more girly emotions slip out. Gritting her teeth, she did her best to adjust her voice to normal tones, because she was not going to have a heart to heart over a possibly bugged phone! "Look, Kit, just… do your thing and the next time yah have some vacation time, we'll catch up."

"But I only wanted to say…," he began again. At her overly exaggerated throat clearing, he paused. When he spoke again, it was heavily ironic with a touch of promise. "Yah just won't let me win, huh? Fine. And just so yah know, if I'd been there, I would have beaten the circuits out of that bastard."

"Hah! You and me both, Bro," Cass agreed, her voice now also containing a slightly vindictive quality. Don't get her wrong, she could see where Swindle had been coming from. It didn't mean she agreed with his methods. There was definite payback on the horizon if he dared show his big smarmy metal face around here again, and not just from her. The family wanted to settle the score as well. After a few minutes more of conversation and friendly banter, she closed the phone and slipped it back into her pocket.

Turning, she watched as their leader, the one painted like an American flag, pinched the bridge of his nose in despair. The brunet tilted her head in curiosity, musing, 'What's his name again? It's different from the others because he hasn't bothered to translate it into English…' Cass puzzled over the issue before the proverbial light bulb went off. 'That's right, it's Optimus.' The big guy was enmeshed in barely understandable legalese with her 'case-worker.' Cassidy scowled and looked away. Now there was a guy she wanted to avoid. She'd tried to shine him on and had gotten strong armed into a wall for her trouble! Scowling, she wandered a different direction in her efforts to avoid the guys gimlet glare. 'Why do I have to have special treatment? So what if I got abducted by aliens! Half the American South has too, if the rumors are true, and I don't see them being forced to move in with a bunch of crazy giant robots.'

A massive metal hand unexpectedly arrived, long metal fingers curling over her shoulder with barely restrained crushing force. She barely bit back a startled screech. Cringing, expecting nothing short of mind numbing agony, Cassidy waited, but nothing further happened. Carefully opening her eyes, the brunet slowly looked up at the owner of that metal palm and her face paled. The giant alien that gazed down at her was as thin and tall as an electrical pole with features to match. In other words: The Psycho. After a moment, he spoke, his voice sounding crisp, cultured, and British with a side of Cambridge. "I would like to apologize for not rescuing you when we first met," he stated calmly. "It was highly unprofessional of me, and it grieves me that I was unable to separate you from your captor."

"Oh," she exclaimed, barely keeping her nerves in check. "Well, that's okay then! Yah did your best, no harm done…" Quick brown eyes located the little indents in his metal fingertips where his claws probably were, and those little slots in his body were probably where he kept his giant throwing stars of death. Swallowing nervously, she returned her gaze to his fingers, which were scant inches from her face. Then she realized that he was staring at her and forced a grin to the surface. Using every acting trick the seventeen year old knew, she reassured, "So I'm fine now, okay?"

"Yet I did not, as you put it, do my best," Prowl politely corrected her. "I made blatant errors that nearly caused you to offline. Since then, I have been scouring my hard-drive for an adequate method of eliminating these flaws in my programming…"

"Hey, woah, woah," Cassidy interrupted, awkwardly patting the metal hand that still rested all encompassing and heavy on her back. "Don't freak out over a couple of mistakes. I forgive yah, and hey, I think yah did fine… relax." Gesturing broadly at the robot still holding her immobile, she took a wide step further away. 'Come on,' she silently pleaded. 'Let go… Hint, hint.' She almost fell over when he not only didn't remove his metal palm, but kept her upper torso solidly locked in place.

"You are too kind," Prowl replied with the ghost of a smile. Seemingly oblivious to her subtle attempts to escape post-haste, he continued. "However, I feel that the only method of making amends and sharpening my protective programming is to become your guardian. This will entail accompanying you to all locations, defending you from any and all threats, vigorous combat training…"

As the giant psychotic alien continued to run through a litany of activities, Cassidy could only stare in wordless horror. 'Changing my name and moving is looking more and more appealing right now,' she dazedly realized. Her disarming laugh, when it came, actually sounded more than a little hysterical. Squirming, she finally managed to extricate herself from the thin alien's vice-like grip. "Um, Mr. Psyc…," she began, only barely catching herself in time. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "I mean P-Prowl, it's sweet of yah to offer, and I'm sure it's a huge honor and all… But I refuse to set foot in another car as long as I live!" Taking a deep breath, she mentally patted herself on the back. 'There,' the brunet thought, 'That wasn't so hard. Nobody's upset, I didn't sound like a complete lunatic… and why is he smiling?'

Prowl gazed down at her with the beginning of an honest smirk marring his normally emotionless face. Rather than attempt to regain control over his features, he simply transformed, folding down into himself piece by piece like a collapsing slinky. When he was done, all that was left was a shiny, innocently purring Harley Davidson motorcycle casually parked in front of her. "Then it is fortunate that is not my chosen alt-mode," he stated with a rev of his engines.

Swallowing hard, Cassidy considered the menacing black, white, and chrome police-bike nervously. "Uh…," the brunet began, at a loss for words. She closed her eyes and tried to will the image away. 'Open eyes… Nope, it's still there,' she realized unhappily. Taking a deep breath, she began, "Um, no thanks." An alien engine roared, so she quickly amended her words. "I mean…how can yah expected me to ride yah when we've only just met?" A wince stole across her face as she reflected that she really had to stop with those stupid double entendres.

"Understandable," the disembodied crisp British accent acknowledged simply. She slumped in relief, only to tense at the motorcycle's next words. "There are still two days left before you must go back to school. You will become accustomed to me in that span of time." Transforming back into a tall narrow shadow of gloss and black paint, he silently wove back into the depths of the warehouse without a glance back.

Stricken, she tried to come up with an excuse, a reason, anything! She did NOT want the Terminator's big brother dogging her steps for the rest of eternity. Yet, nothing entered her frozen brain. Wordlessly opening and closing her mouth, she gazed after the alien until he was out of sight. 'Terrific,' she reflected, slumping. 'Now I have a choice between some government holding cell in the middle of the desert, or playing cloak and dagger with a giant killing machine for the rest of my life… Great.' Her cell-phone chose that moment to let out an odd sort of chirp, and frowning, she dug it out of her pocket. The screen was covered in random numbers and smoke was beginning to seep out of one corner. Yelping, she dropped it just as it lit on fire.

Acutely aware that she was being stared at again, this time in horrified shock, her face heated up. She'd warned her Pop repeatedly that it was going to fritz out on her, and now her prediction had come true. As one of the giant robots came over to investigate, whistling and crooning in his own language, Cass began mentally mapping out the route she would have to take to get to the nearest payphone. Normally, she wouldn't bother with this until morning, but not right now. Not while Pop was in such an extreme overprotective mode. The only reason why she wasn't home was due to the government jumping in... and the fact that her house was still ripped up. Pouting, she realized that the nearest phone was seventeen blocks away, easily a two hour walk. Her feet ached just thinking about it. Gazing down at her cell-phone's smoldering remains, she sighed to herself, 'Stupid machines.'

_On a deserted street in the industrial district…_

Smirking, Rueben Simmons stepped out of the unassuming warehouse door. Nulte had disappeared. This had thrown the entire alien compound into a frenzy, much to his amusement. With any luck, the plans Sector Seven had put into place would happen like clockwork. Now, all that was left was getting to the airport to board his connecting flight. Standing out on the sidewalk, he waited… and waited some more. The home office had promised him a taxi five freaking minutes ago. At last the small yellow car with that tell-tale checkered sign arrived, slowing to a stop in front of him. "Well it's about time," he groused, piling into the back seat. He glared up at the driver, some Hindu transplant from God knew where, and snarled, "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Turning around, the driver flashed a gregarious, blinding white smile. "I was just wondering if you wanted to take in the sights," he gushed, his voice sounding more like a radio announcer's than a cabby. "There are a number of historic sites in beautiful Detroit as well as modern marvels in engineering. The Sumdac Automaton Plant, for example…"

"Listen, Pal," Reuben interrupted, his glare promising all kinds of pain, starting with a tax audit and working up from there. "I got in this car for one reason, and it's not to play grand tour at three in the morning. You're a cabby, aren't you? So drive like one!" Done with his tirade, the government spook settled back into the surprisingly comfy seat cushions and whipped out his cell phone. In seconds, he had his superior on the line. "Yeah, Anderson? Simmons here," he gave the driver a contemptuous eye roll. "No, I'm not on the plane yet. Some local tried to bum an extra twenty bucks off me…" Opening his briefcase, he began rifling through the contents. Thus, he failed to consider the fact that the cab-driver wore unnaturally large purple sunglasses, or that his clothing looked a trifle more artificial than what most people were comfortable with. He certainly didn't care if the man's smile became increasingly false the longer he talked.

Swindle had encountered a number of Humans throughout his short stint as a cab, from genial to downright hostile. This one was apparently in the latter category. Turning back around as if on autopilot, the driver, one 'Swin Dalli,' went through the motions of starting the engine. _So the human wants me to drive like a cab_, the Decepticon mused. Setting his sensors, he monitored his only passenger carefully. The next instant, the car was moving forward so fast, it might as well have been flying. Cutting a corner by way of the fancy stone staircase of the building on the corner, he sailed over traffic and almost gave a bag-lady a heart attack. At Reuben's startled exclamation, followed by a lot of cursing, the 'Con-mech commented, "Oh, don't worry! I'll make sure you get to the airport on time. After all, the customer is always right!"

**Author's note:**_ And there we have it! I am grateful to all the readers out there that gave my story reviews and support. I wouldn't have been able to get this done without you! I'm also grateful to my parents for editing and working with me at brainstorming ideas. And as always, I thank God, who gave me the inspiration to write this. Now don't worry, there is a sequel coming soon. Keep you're eyes open for my next story, 'Counterfeit.' _


End file.
